The Chimera Charm

by Pearl Goodfellow

  “Reverend Peacefield, thanks for being so easy on me,” I squeezed his hand. “Yeah, Midnight was okay; he mostly lands on his feet.” My smile fell, and I spoke seriously. “We were trying to protect you from getting involved, you know?”

  “I do know. That’s why I’m not angry. But, you might want to tell Portia to chose something a little more subtle than the Shadowgate to gain access. It truly messes with my forcefields.”

  I grimaced at the memory of the spinning vortex of dark death.

  “But, do tell me, how are you getting along with the case so far?” Peacefield’s eyes glittered with curiosity.

  “Rev, you know I can’t share anything with you, really,” I squirmed.

  “That’s true. But, that’s not the truth the other way around,”

  I raised an eyebrow in question.

  “What I mean, Ms. Jenkins, is that you might not be able to share with me, but I am free to share with you. Follow me,” he said waving an arm and heading toward the back of the flower shop. I walked after the vicar, feeling intrigued.

  A ledger lay on a battered desk along the edge of another workroom. “This is where I work when Buntie’s here,” Thaddeus explained. I nodded, taking in all the empty flower pots and vases on the shelves of the room.

  “This is the shop’s ledger. We keep it out here, as Buntie likes to have her front desk as free of clutter as possible, for when she’s creating wedding arrangements, and the like.” Thaddeus lifted the ledger and cracked the spine, and drawing a stubby finger down a column of numbers, he remarked: “Here.” He handed me the open ledger while my eyes moved to the tip of his index finger. Peacefield tapped the entry. “Please note that the date corresponds to the day that Morag passed from this world,” he said. It was a record for a flower arrangement for Morag’s sister, Infirma. I wasn’t seeing what the reverend wanted me to see, though.

  “So someone was quick on getting flowers sent to Infirma two hours after Morag’s death. What about it?”

  “Ah, but there’s the rub,” the vicar countered, sliding his finger over to the order timestamp of the delivery. “This particular batch was commissioned exactly three hours BEFORE Morag’s fateful tumble from the Ferris wheel. So someone knew that the lawyer Devlin was about to exit life, and they were getting their fake condolences wrapped up before the woman even died.” He looked at me, waiting for recognition. I craned my head to the entry again to see who had placed the order. My head shot up to Reverend Peacefield, and he nodded.

  “Thanks, Rev. Seriously, big thanks!” I pounced across the counter and kissed the gentle man on the forehead. I slapped Sixty Sols on the counter. “Can you make sure Infirma gets your work of art before she leaves Howling Mercy today?”

  “It’ll be with her within the hour,” he assured me.

  I flew out of Buntie’s and ran, without stopping, all the way to GIPPD. Even if David hadn’t wrapped up his meeting, I’d have to drag him out of it.

  I needn’t have worried though. I bumped into the chief as he and all my cats -- including the agoraphobe, Jet -- were marching out toward David’s broom.

  “Hat, was just gonna call you,” David said, his cheeks flushed, and a look of burning purpose flooding his eyes. He caught hold of the arm of a passing officer. “Get this lady a broom. Have it out back in a minute, next to mine,”

  “Sir,” the officer nodded and took off.

  “We’re going to Cathedral, Hat,” David said, still making his way to his broom, with the cats trotting urgently behind.

  “David, I found a check bo--”

  “I know,” my friend said. “I just got off the phone with Fearwyn, plus your two moggies here, filled me in,” he said, nodding toward a striding Shade and Midnight.

  “But, there’s something else,” I pleaded. The officer appeared with the guest broom for me. I nodded my thanks and grabbed it. “I was just at Buntie’s Blooms, and Reverend Peacefield was there, and he showed me --”

  “Hat, I promise you we’re going to be speaking about all this very soon, but right now, we need to get to Cathedral. Our prime suspect is making a break for it.”

  My eyebrows shot up in alarm.

  “You know who the killer is? He’s trying to escape? But… just, what? What? What?” I spun to my cats. Gloom gave me a critical eye.

  “I’m pretty sure there’s a vacant cell at Midnight Hill if you ever need it,”

  “Guys, hurry, c’mon,” David interrupted, piling at least half of my kitties onto his broom, while the rest jumped onto my borrowed besom.

  I thought I’d be able to share my info and ask questions along the way, but that idea was hacked straight away, as David took my wrist from across the gap between our brooms. “Hold on, Hat,” He cautioned. “We’re doing the rapid-route.” As soon as he finished speaking, it felt as if the broom and its passengers were being yanked through a tunnel at high speed. My stomach lurched at the sheer velocity. The ground below us turned into something else; a bleeding, blending, soup of whirring colors. I sincerely tried to be grateful for my friend’s use of magic. I mean, at least it wasn’t a Shadowgate.

  We landed, or, crashed, rather, in a field along the edge of the Cathedral Coastline. If you looked West, you could just make out the black spire of Chalice’s Black Diamond Cathedral, radiating its unique light in the distance.

  Not one hundred yards ahead of us stood a little cabin; not dissimilar to that of the Mag Mell cottage-portal on Glessie. David waved us down to a crouch so that we wouldn’t be seen above the tall stalks of barley.

  “So, is this another portal?” I whispered, seeing the gleaming facade of the empty cabin. It looked to be soaked in Fae charms when I peered at it through the Sight.

  David was about to answer when his radio gave a quiet squawk. “Chief, the target is in sight,” the disembodied voice said. David popped his head up quickly and then turned to us.

  “Okay, I see him. Now, whatever we do, we can’t let him get to that Mag Mell gate--”

  Fraidy bolted. We watched as my scaredy cat bounded through the tall grasses toward the cottage and the man who was trying to gain entry. I heard him mutter a prayer as he passed.

  “Please, Bast. Please, Bran. Please, Goddess,” his little face pulled into a scowl of determination.

  “Move in!” The chief barked into his police radio at his already stationed men.

  At least six Glessie Para Police officers swarmed after the fleeing man, but they were still too far. It looked like the suspect was about to escape through the cottage’s cheery red door, when we all saw a black missile shoot up from the tall barley grass. The living cannonball landed on the perp’s head, and Fraidy widened his eyes in horror at what he had just done, while the man spun around in circles trying to swat away my brave kitty.

  David sprinted the distance to the perp and my guardian cat.

  “It’s alright, Fraidy,” David said. “You can let Mr. Kramp go now.”

  Fraidy made his way down from Barnabus’ head. But, as my cat didn’t care for heights too much, he failed to make a clean jump. Barnabus rubbed furiously at Fraidy’s descending claw marks that rutted his jawline, neck, and ears.

  “Stupid cat!” he yelled as he kicked at my cat as he landed. David shoved the man hard until he tumbled backward, forcing his kick to go wide. My kitty didn’t stick around to see if Governor Shields’ right-hand man would try for another attack. He sprang and landed in my arms, immediately tucking his head under my chin. I kissed his forehead and held him tight until I felt his purr-motor kick in.

  “Unless you want to add animal cruelty to the charges,” David said, leaning over the fallen man with a pair of handcuffs. “I’d suggest you restrain yourself, Mr. Kramp.”

  “I have nothing to say to either of you,” Kramp spat as we sat in the GIPPD interrogation room. I sat quietly in the corner, my hands folded in my lap. David leaned across the table until his face was within an inch of Barnabus’.

  “Well, that’s good to hear, Mr.
Kramp,” CPI Trew hissed. “Because, right now, I would much prefer that you listen to what WE have to say,” my friend said, pulling a file across the table to place between them. David opened the file, shuffled some papers, and then looked up at Kramp.

  “These are reprints of a hidden ledger we found on the Devlin estate,” David explained as he pushed the photographs under the lawyer’s nose. “They just so happen to correspond with a number of withdrawals you made from your account matching the exact amounts and dates of the deposits listed here.” David stabbed his finger square in the middle of the photographic evidence. Kramp refused to look at the image. “The money wasn't directly routed to the account noted, of course. But there are only so many ways one can hide a money trail.”

  “Doing it through a charity you happen to run was particularly careless, though,” I said. “‘Peace of the Isles’ is about to get a ‘piece’ of auditing that will be its undoing.”

  Kramp scowled at me.

  “Are you two amateurs trying to accuse me of embezzlement?” He sneered.

  “Oh, no, Mr. Kramp,” David said with an innocent smile. “If anything, you were the victim in this instance. Whatever Morag’s virtues, she wasn’t above a little old-fashioned blackmail. Still, I have to give her credit for also using your money-laundering charity for ‘good,’ by getting you to donate a handful of Futura’s to Cagliostro School.”

  “Blackmail?” Kramp scoffed. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.” His eyes blazed.

  “Ah, but a woman scorned, as Morag was, knows all about blackmail, am I right?” The chief goaded. “Thanks to the new home-help that Infirma acquired just recently, we were able to uncover Morag’s hidden diary.” David showed the photo of the damning page of the journal that Seamus had brought to him this morning while he was in budget meetings. Kramp’s eye twitched, but he said nothing.

  “Yes, you and Morag were an ‘item’ not so long ago. Until you started getting hot and heavy with Sincerity Jones, that is,” I said. “But, Morag was a determined and resourceful woman,” I added. “She hired one private investigator by the name of Phillip Howard. Know him?” I questioned the perp.

  Kramp still said nothing, but I could tell he was seething.

  “Phillip Howard is an ace; it has to be said. He tracked you and Sincerity down to the Morningstar Motel in less than five minutes. Morag found out she’d been dumped for a younger, prettier, more ambitious woman, and she got back at you by blackmailing you.”

  “What reason would Morag have to blackmail me, you complete airhead?” Barnabus strained against his handcuffs, and while he was still giving me daggers, my friend leaned across the table to take Kramp by his expensive tie. He yanked on it. Hard. The lawyer’s head jerked up to face the chief. “You ever speak to my friend like that again, I can guarantee you’ll choose a lifetime sentence in Steel Trap over what I promise to do to you. Got it, pal?” David shoved Kramp back into his chair.

  “I have no idea what motel you’re talking about,” David’s detainee said, his chin jutting out toward my friend.

  David pulled out a receipt from the file.

  “At first, we thought this belonged to that slimeball boss of yours,” David said, smoothing out the invoice. “But, after my guys followed the credit card trail, and it led to the Morningstar, where you were seen by P.I Howard, we realized just what a naughty boy you’d been.”

  Kramp’s breathing became a little labored. I watched, from the corner, as a bead of sweat made a trickling path from his temple to his Fraidy-scratched jaw.

  “Morag knew all about your ‘Peace of the Isles’ charity, and once she knew you were screwing around on her with Sincerity Jones, she threatened to ‘out’ you.”

  “Lawyer. I want a lawyer.” Kramp whispered.

  "I hope your legal eagle is an adept, Barnabus," I said gently. "Because he's going to have to be whip-sharp to be able to explain away the fact that you ordered condolence flowers for Infirma BEFORE Morag died."

  “That’s your proof?” Barnabus asked with a sneer. “Good luck convincing a grand jury with that evidence. There are more than a handful of people who would have likely wanted Morag Devlin dead.”

  “Are you suggesting Governor Shields?” David asked with a cocked eyebrow. “Not that I think Shields has any qualms against immorality, but he’s not a stupid man. He’s probably pretty annoyed with you for ‘un-tidying’ his cabinet with your tabloid-sensationalist antics. There’s no doubt that Shields would have wanted to keep Morag doing the good work she was doing on the Rock Grumlin case. But, you, being his right-hand man? He’d have to protect you. You’re Gideon Shields’ ‘shield,’ as it were. You’re his protection. So, he had to make sacrifices.” David leaned back in his chair. "Without the governor getting his own hands dirty, of course."

  “You have nothing on Gideon Shields!” Kramp shot up from his seat and flared his nostrils.

  “This is one thing you’re right about,” David said patiently. “It’s unlikely we’ll ever catch the governor with muddied-hands, but it feels nice that we’re snuggling up with his inner cabinet right now, doesn’t it?”

  Chief Trew pulled out the Puppeteer Curse next. Barnabus flinched at the sight of the document.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” my friend said. “Were we supposed to find this AFTER you finished killing Infirma?” It’s hard to plan for curveballs like the Chimera Charm, I guess?”

  “Bet you my month’s gross that if we looked over Mr. Kramp’s family grimoire,” I said, leaning toward the two men. “We’d find the exact same variant of the Vencap Curse in its pages.”

  Barnabus guffawed. “As if I’d let you fools into my estate.”

  “Well, you’re a little late to that party. My men are crawling over your entire house as we speak.” David leered at Barnabus Kramp.

  “I’ve heard enough,” Barnabus finally said. “I want a lawyer before you even think about continuing this conversation.”

  “Not going to represent yourself?” David mocked. “I’m disappointed.”

  “Lawyer,” Barnabus said. “Now.”

  David smiled again. This time it was predatory.

  We had him.

  We stood up and moved toward the door.

  “Enjoy your time at Steeltrap, Mr. Kramp,” I said over my shoulder. “I’m sure you already have many friends there.”

  I pushed open the door when David stopped. He turned toward the accused man.

  “You know, our one mistake was focussing on that mystery item that Morag hid. It turns out it was likely nothing now, seeing as we have you in custody.” My friend looked like a champion right then. I smiled at him, and we turned to leave.

  “Oh, but you’re mistaken.” Kramp’s voice came like a poison-tipped arrow from behind us. “That artifact is of the utmost importance, as it happens.” Shields’ lawyer leaned back in his chair and offered us a vulture’s grin. “Shame for you, that even if you DO find it, it’ll be too late to do anything about it.”

  The Reverend Peacefield reached the top of Saint Pendragon’s bell tower without so much as spilling a drop of iced tea. He reached the last step and laid down the silver tray loaded with glasses of the cool drink.

  “Find anything?” He asked as he turned to the bodies carefully feeling their way around the bell.

  Orville and Verdantia circled the giant clanger, their fingers outstretched and feeling every measurement of the underside.

  “It’s our third time round, and nothing yet, Rev,” Orville said, his eyes squinting against the shine of the bell.

  "Again," Portia's steely voice sailed over the top of a book she was reading. 'The Life of Drakon,' was the title, blazing in gold across the cover. The old witch caught me looking at her. She cleared her throat. "Research," she said.

  I turned to Peacefield. “Carpathia, Gabrielle, and Artemus are taking the next shift, Thaddeus,” I explained to the vicar. “Hopefully their work won’t keep you up if it’s late?”

  “It’s
no bother, Hattie, really,” Peacefield rubbed my shoulders with both hands. “Besides, could you imagine if Father Brown were here now?” His eyes danced with glee. “I don’t know about you, but I’d suspect the Father would be a trifle envious of all this mystery and intrigue surrounding my church.”

  “Oh, boy, he’d absolutely --”

  “I’ve found something!”

  We all ran to the bell; the Infiniti were already under Orville's fingers looking up at what he’d discovered.

  Verdantia bent to her knees and craned her head upward under the bell where Orville’s hand pointed.

  “Yes, there’s an anomaly here. A small rent in the bell's surface. Looks like a scratch on first look. I think…. Shade, sweetie, please,” Verdantia gently pushed my admiring moggie away from the mysterious site. She couldn’t really see what she was looking at while his fuzzy head kept head butting her chin. “It’s covered in thick magic, and I mean thick. It’ll take some time, and some painstaking extraction to get it out, but, yes, I think we’ve found Morag’s artifact.”

  “Dun, Dun, Dunnnn” Gloom joked. Shade looked at his sister with a grave stare.

  “No, sis, it’s: Ding, Dang, Donnng.”

  The End

  More goodness on the following pages …

  Map of the Coven Isles

  The Infiniti Chronicles Continues…

  Up to date with the Chronicles? Your next adventure is ‘The Warlock Weapon.’ Link below. If you’re diving into the mystery for the first time, check out the whole volume here:

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