“Silly kitty.” Verdantia’s laugh tinkled like a million tiny bells.
I placed an urgent hand on her arm. “Verdantia, I need your help. I’m assuming you heard that Spithilda Roach was killed.”
For a moment, a dark cloud passed into Verdantia’s bright, twinkling eyes and they went black as night. At the same time, the weather over the market threatened rain. Long enough to send bewildered customers scurrying for cover. It never rained at Verdantia’s market.
But, as soon as the foreboding cloud rode in, it dissipated into memory and the golden warmth of the sun broke through once again.
“Yes,” Verdantia admitted. “But, I choose to celebrate Spithilda’s memory instead of mourning her passing.”
All was right in her world once again.
“That’s very admirable, Verdantia. I’m trying to help Chief Trew figure out what may have happened.”
“That’s wonderful, Hattie! We should all help each other. The world, both magical and Unawakened, would be a much better place for it.”
“I couldn’t agree more. On that note, do you happen to keep a register of purchases here at the market? I’m trying to determine if anyone has made any purchases of pokeweed leaves recently.”
“Why I certainly do, Hattie! I have to for the more ‘risky’ produce I sell. But, I don’t have to look at the record. Portia is my only supplier of pokeweed leaves, so it’s very simple to track who has bought any of late. You know,” she interrupted her own train of thought as she laid a long finger aside her face. “I haven’t seen Portia today with her regular delivery of leaves. She never misses a delivery. Since most of her family’s money has dried up, I know she counts on our little weekly transaction to help make ends meet. She’s usually the first supplier to show up. Every single time. I certainly hope nothing’s happened to her!”
I thought about the special visitor Portia had had last night. Maybe Rad had stayed the entire night instead of schlepping off immediately for werewolf lands. They were two consenting adults. But, I didn’t really want to think about it too long.
“I’m sure she’s fine, Verdantia. Chief Trew and I just saw Portia last night, and she was alive and well.”
“Whew! Well, that’s certainly good news. I’m so glad!” She wiped an imaginary line of sweat from her perfect brow. I don’t think that woman has ever had a drop of sweat mar her perfect features in…well, ever!
“I guess back to sales, then. I don’t sell a lot of pokeweed because Poke Sallet is such a tricky dish to make. Most chefs shy away from it. First, you have to rinse the leaves in cool water. Then boil them for 20 minutes. But, the leaves aren’t safe yet. Next, you rinse them again under cool, clear water. And even then you have to go through the boil and rinse process two more times. Then you usually pan fry the leaves after that. If you don’t follow the steps precisely, and I mean precisely, the consequences could have disastrous results! Oh!” Verdantia gasped, a long-fingered hand covering her shocked mouth.
“Is that what happened to poor Spithilda?”
“I’m not in the position to say, Verdantia. I hope you understand.” She suddenly gripped my arm.
“Oh, goodness! It wasn’t Millie, was it? She was on the list of buyers!”
“Heavens, no!” I exclaimed although I had a much better explanation for why I had lost nearly every set of curtains in the shop and my apartment to Carbon’s intestinal distress.
“I tried to tell her it wasn’t kale. But, you know Millie.”
“Yeah,” I sniggered. “I know Millie.”
Verdantia’s bell-like laugh tinkled through the air again.
“Well,” she thought. “The only other person who had made a pokeweed purchase in the last few days was Amber Crystal. She also bought some lovely African violets. Chalmers Breedlove grows them. They’re positively delightful, and this particular variety happens to make a most effectively excellent love spell.” She looked to the middle distant, a dreamy veil hanging over her face for a second or two.
“That’s nice,” I cut her off as politely as I could. Love spells were hardly relevant to the case right now. I had questions, and I still needed to find some answers. I mentally scrolled through my suspect list. There was only one name left.
“Did Violet Mulberry make a pokeberry purchase?” I asked.
Verdantia pursed her lips and thought for a moment. “No, ma’am she did not. But, she did purchase some beautiful blackberries to make an all-natural hair dye. Turns the hair a vivid violet! I believe she’s trying to formulate her own line of color. Not sure she’ll get the same dazzling effect as the Florid Lights range though! So beautiful!”
The image of Remy and his pink-bowed hair sprang to mind. So, Rad and Violet were off the suspect list. Neither of them met all three motive, means, and opportunity criteria. And though I’d proven means and opportunity, Spithilda’s Mortis Haereditatem curse had made Amber’s motive shaky at best. But, she had bought pokeweed here? Maybe so, but she was a salad person. Every time I saw the woman, she seemed to be munching on some green leaf or other.
But, Portia? Even though she had helped Rad, Portia Fearwyn was still in the running. She could have killed Spithilda to orchestrate exactly what had happened – that with Spithilda gone, Rad would have had no choice but to come back to her for help with his...affliction. Grandma Chimera would have laughed in my face. She had trusted Portia Fearwyn with her life. I don’t know, I respected the old witch, and I truly admired her potion skills, but she did seem to be hiding something. The locked cellar, for example. When a half mad werewolf wasn’t in there, what was? And, what of all the large and dangerous purchases she had made from the Angel over the years? And, what of the reports of lights, loud bangs, and mini explosions of pulsing light seen over the swamps in recent years? There was a lot more to Portia Fearwyn than she let on.
“Well, I certainly hoped I helped. That’s why we’re here after all. To help each other. Speaking of which, I really must get along now. I promised Alban Dewdrop I would bring him a ham hock today. Poor man can’t get out much,” Verdantia fluttered.
“Alban Dewdrop? I just met him at The Mutley Crew offices yesterday. A nice man. A little odd, but nice. Is he sick?”
Puzzlement filled Verdantia’s beautiful face. “Not sick, exactly. But, I don’t see how you could have seen Alban at The Mutley Crew offices. Alban hasn’t been the Chair of the Society for years. Poor dear. He so loved his job and those dogs. It’s what he lived for. He empathized quite keenly with their plight, being an orphan himself you see. Never had a real home. But, it wasn’t enough. He wanted to really understand them. To be able to communicate with them.”
“Like, talk?”
Verdantia nodded. “Indeed. He worked a Canibus Communicare spell and something went awry. And, sadly, no amount of reversal charms will, well, reverse it.”
“The spell didn’t work?”
“Oh, no. He could definitely communicate with dogs. Except now, he also thinks he’s a dog. He’s harmless really. As long as he gets taken for walks three times a day and we keep his food and water dishes full. Occasionally, I like to bring him a bone. I never touch the stuff myself, but if it makes dear Alban happy. So, now, he’s at Midnight Hill Sanatorium in the Retirement Wing.”
“But, I don’t understand. I saw him! So did Chief Trew!”
Verdantia smiled knowingly. “Actually, it sounds like you saw what someone wanted you to see.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Did you see a spark or a twinkle in ‘Alban’s’ eye?”
“Does a gleam count?”
“What about a ring of toadstools?”
I thought about the perfect circle of red-capped fungi I had seen on the expanse of green grass near the weeping willow. I nodded silently.
“A fairy ring,” Verdantia shook her head solemnly. “A portal to Mag Mell.”
“Mag Mell!” Shade spluttered, mention of the ancient fairy realm breaking his transfixion on Verdantia’s otherworldly beauty. Honestly
, I’d nearly forgotten he was there.
“Indeed. My homeland,” Verdantia confirmed. “I miss it sometimes, but all-in-all, I’d rather be here on Glessie. What you saw in those offices, if indeed you were even in those offices, was nothing more than a glamour. An illusion by someone schooled in the magic of The Fae. But, be careful, Hattie. Not all Fae are friendly and things are seldom what they seem.”
Verdantia put Shade down and glided away amongst the pumpkins, her cryptic warning hanging menacingly in the air. Shade rested his chin on the top of a Wee-Be-Little pumpkin and stared after her.
He sighed. “Say what you want about The Fae, Hat, but that woman is drop-dead-gourd-geous.”
14
Hexception to the Rule
“Absolutely not, Hattie! There is absolutely no way I am going to allow you to practice unlicensed Fae magic in the heart of Glessie. Do you have any idea how dangerous that is? People have eaten Fae food and then wasted away because they can’t be satisfied with anything else. Or, they’ve gotten so lost because they foolishly follow some Will O’the Wisp light down some dark, dangerous backroad and are never heard from again. The answer’s ‘no,' Hattie. It’s way too dangerous. Even for the most seasoned practitioners. And, well, let’s face it, you’re not exactly Maleficent.”
I cringed at the gentle, but biting insult from my long-time friend. My nose tingled as tears threatened to flood my face. Or maybe it was the musky sweet, earthy aroma lingering in the air. Amber looked on from her station behind the Chief, twiddling her necklace.
I wiped an annoyed arm across my face. I didn’t need an audience for an emotional breakdown; that’s for sure. The Chief wasn’t finished with his lecture, however.
“That’s why the Talisman requires all non-Fae to receive stringent and rigorous training before they will even consider granting a license. It’s simply out of the question. I won’t allow Fae magic.” He slammed the mugshot book closed on his desk.
“It’s a little late for that,” I countered sarcastically. “Looks like you’ve already got someone practicing it. And they’re using it to interfere with the Spithilda Roach investigation.”
“Chief?” Amber interrupted. She moved from her position over the Chief’s shoulder. They had been reviewing the mugshots about a recent unicorn poaching incident. Poached for their alicorn, no doubt. Standard police stuff.
“I’ll just pick these up for now. We can discuss how you want the report to read later. Over dinner.” Amber placed a steadying hand on the Chief’s shoulder.
Chief Trew covered her hand with his own. “Thank you, Amber. You’ve been super.”
My brow furrowed.
Okay. Maybe not so standard.
But, I certainly didn’t have time for that now.
“I just want to work a simple little spell to find out who it is. That toadstool ring outside The Mutley Crew offices wasn’t just a landscaper’s nightmare, David. It was a portal! A gate between our world and Mag Mell. Need I remind you that the Seelies from that world do not share our enlightened relationship with the Unawakened? They would just as soon wipe humans off the face of the planet quicker than they can say ‘horse and hattock’!”
“Hattie,” Amber said sweetly, probably to tone the ire creeping into my voice. “You really should listen to the Chief. He’s got your best interests, and the interests of all of Glessie Isle at heart. He’s so thoughtful that way. Did you know he’s even putting in a good word for me at the Academy? After watching the two of you work, I decided I wanted to be more than just an executive assistant.”
She bent over her desk to straighten the pot of violets on her desk, leaving her full cleavage in plain view of the Chief.
“Why wouldn’t I, Amber?” The Chief grinned. “You’ve certainly got potential.”
Oh, is that what we’re calling it these days?
“Hey, Amber, did you say you were from Mag Mell island? Is that where you came from?” I threw the question quite suddenly.
“Mag Mell? No, I was transferred from Nanker Isle.” Amber answered, a puzzled smile on her face.
“Hattie, I’ve already questioned Amb…” David started.
“What about your mom? Is she still on Mag Mell? Do you two still have contact?” I honestly didn’t know where I was going with this, but I knew I had to clear up a few things in my head.
“Hattie, Amber hasn’t spoken to her mom in years. She came from Nanker, not Mag Mell. And, I already told you this.” The chief’s words were weary, and teetering on the edge of a simmering rage by the looks of him.
Amber was looking a lot less like a fae-magic-practicing-suspect by the minute. She stood, her mouth hanging open wordlessly. I turned my attention back to David, feeling the desperation of wanting his undivided attention pulse like electric through my body.
“Are you listening to a word I am saying? You need to make an exception for this Fae sorcery! Something is wrong! And it’s going on right under our noses!”
A faint scent of musky, greasy straw drifted through the air. I looked past Amber, who nervously twiddled at her necklace, worried no doubt at my uncharacteristic outburst, to see Hector moving a bale of hay through the station.
“Just put that in the stable, Hector. For the mounted division’s horses.”
Hector grunted in the affirmative.
“David!” I exploded.
Hector dropped his hay. Everyone in the squad room stopped and stared. You could have heard a pin drop. Though I had known the Chief for years, I had never used his God-given name in a professional setting out of respect for his position and authority. But, this was dangerous and gravely serious, and I had not made the decision lightly.
Judging from the dark, stormy clouds that filled David’s eyes, turning them from their beautiful blue to a foreboding and stormy gray it may not have been the right decision.
“Seraphim Joyvive Jenkins…get out of my squad room. Asking for your help was clearly a mistake. If I hear one whisper about you sticking your nose into the Spithilda Roach situation, not only will I never speak to you again, but I will have you arrested for interfering into a police investigation. You’re off the case.” I honestly don’t believe I had ever seen my friend so angry.
“Just like that?” Shade asked. “You’re done? Wow. Boss-lady, that’s harsh!”
“Serves her right, sticking her nose in where it doesn’t belong,” Gloom muttered from her perch in the wingback.
Eclipse threw a sour look in Gloom’s general direction. “You want me to tickle her, boss? ‘Cause I will do it without a second’s thought. You know how she hates being made to laugh. It will ruin her day.”
“No, Clipsy” I mumbled from underneath a wild tangle of auburn curls, my face buried in my folded arms. “Gloom’s right.”
Gloom suddenly perked up. “Wait? What? I am?”
I lifted my head with some effort. It felt like a two-ton, lead weight. My eyes were red and puffy. I’d been producing more water than the Gless Inlet aquifer since I’d gotten back to The Angel Apothecary after my argument with Chief Trew at the station. My nose pulsed redder than a certain Christmas reindeer. I was surrounded by a mountain of crumpled tissue. I reached for the tissue box. It was empty. I searched through the crumplies and found the cleanest one I could and honked louder than the Sugar Dunes foghorn. I’m not normally a cry-baby sort, when it came to me. Sure, I cried for other people all the time, but most of the time I could almost always hold it together in my own affairs of the heart. Not this time though.
“Yes, Gloom. You heard me. I said ‘you’re right’. And so is David. I have no business being a detective. And I certainly have no business thinking about doing magic. And Fae magic, of all things!”
I’m not sure, but I think I saw Gloom actually smile, which is funny, only because I didn’t think she could.
“Well, um, thank you, Hattie. I guess, I, uh, just wish it was under better circumstances. I, um, I’m just gonna go now. I think Remulus needs to go for a walk.�
�� Gloom gingerly hopped from the seat cushion and padded quietly into the kitchen, looking back over her shoulder the whole way. I’d been so wrapped up in the Spithilda business, I’d almost forgotten about Remulus. Great. Yet another tick on the list of things I’ve screwed up lately. I guess I was glad that Gloom had taken such an unusual interest in him. It left me free to figure out how I was going to disassociate myself from magic altogether.
“That is a terrible idea, Hattie,” Onyx interrupted my train of thought.
Again with his uninvited mind invasion!
I jumped up and slammed my fists against the sides of my legs. “Alright, Onyx! I’ve had it! No more reading my mind. No more clever advice about working magic. And no more suggesting how much David likes me. Because, quite clearly, he’s got a thing for Little Miss “My-Boobs-Get-in-the-Room-Ten-Minutes-Before-I-Do”. No more. Do you understand!”
Jet shot across the room, trying to escape my line of sight. “No way, Speed Racer. No way you’re off the hook. Break one more jar in here and I’ll stuff you in one.”
“Well, that’s just rude,” Jet mumbled.
“And, you!” I leveled an accusatory finger toward Shade. He gave a surprised “who me” look.
“I’m not running a cathouse!” I bellowed.
Shade blinked. He cast bewildered looks at his six furry siblings that were still in the room.
“If you bring one more lady cat into this shop, I will put enough saltpeter in your kibble to make you sing soprano!”
Shade gulped audibly. Midnight, woken early by my histrionics, snickered. Bad move on his part. I whirled on him.
“Go ahead and laugh, Rip Van Winkle. But, when you have your zombie pals over for a late night chit-chat, either toss the party tray afterward or give them a to-go plate. I’m tired of finding brains in my refrigerator!”
“Bleccchh!!!” Carbon blurted.
“As for you, Backdraft… you owe me three sets of curtains! You know what? Nevermind. I’m done.” I’m selling The Angel Apothecary and moving to the Mainland.”
The Violet Countercharm: A Paranormal Cozy Mystery (Hattie Jenkins & The Infiniti Chronicles Book 2) Page 14