by Pam Uphoff
She sniffed. "Yeah, if the guys would do their part. They've got one each, just like me, but some how I seem to always be the one juggling the babies. Anyway, we're almost open for business. What do you think?"
She held out hands with long opalescent golden fingernails.
"Beautiful, but completely impractical for me." Holly sighed. "It's a tossup whether I'd break a nail or pop a castle."
Betelgeuse snickered. "Yeah, I know what you mean. But we need to be walking advertisements, according to Brian. But really, it's an odd mix with baldness cures."
Within a week, Holly started noticing men as they left "Magic Hair and Nail." All in various stages of balding. Business picked up, and both men and women were trooping in the doors regularly. The sign changed overnight to "The Distinguished Head of Hair."
As Holly cleaned more tables in the back, Eppie came out to exercise the three-year-olds and Betelgeuse wheeled out the babies.
"We gave up on nails," Betelgeuse locked the stroller's wheels. "The laser baldness treatment is so popular we figured we'd stick to it. And the skin treatments."
Eppie stretched. "My doctor says one more week. Hopefully we'll be moved in by then."
Betelgeuse nodded. "We've bought four houses over in River Lands."
Holly bit her lip. "You mean the subdivision Jones Bayou flows through when it tops the bank?"
"Yep. The prices were very low, all we have to do is hope there isn't a third hundred year flood this decade."
"Umm, yeah, I suppose so." Holly didn't want to rain on their parade, but the federal authorities had talked about buying out the subdivision and moving the houses. Well, it wasn't any of her business.
Chapter Four
9 November 1999
"You have not gotten permission from the Homeowners association for major changes to your yards."
Rior looked the trio of nosy idiots up and down, and decided against doing anything drastic. He waved his left hand gently in their direction. "It's just minor alterations, leveling things up and filling some raised beds in the rear. We should be done in a few days, and no one will notice the difference."
The spell wrapped around them and the trio bobbed their heads in unison.
The old man that was their spokesman shook his head uncertainly, fighting the spell instinctively. "That's an awful lot of sand. And it's builder's sharp sand, not bank sand, and sand isn't the best thing to use . . . " his voice trailed off as Rior leaned on him mentally.
River Lands had been planned as large estate homes. With almost all the lots sold and half the houses built, the first flood had slowed new construction. Two years later a second flood had pretty much shut it down altogether. But it hadn't stopped the control freaks. I sincerely hope we aren't stuck here for more than a couple of years. Rior smiled affably as the trio climbed back into their Lexus and drove away.
The four houses were at the ends of two cul-de-sacs, backing up to each other, with the troublesome Jones Bayou and the 'greenspace with walking and biking paths' adjoining the two end houses. All four houses had flooded twice, about two feet deep each time. They'd gotten the four houses dirt cheap. And very nice houses they were, all over four thousand square feet with room to spare for the children. Which was just as well, the way the witches reproduced.
And they'd not flood again any time soon. That night, three wizards and four witches combined to levitate each house and move three feet of sand under each one. Jade had extra piping of all types on hand and melded them in place as needed. Very handy, these trained witches.
By morning the heaps of sand were gone and the neighbors might scratch their heads, but none of them were likely to actually mention that the houses seemed so much taller than the day before. They tapered the sand out into the hardy bushes that had survived the floods and busy homeowners. Rior gave the front yards a critical look in the early dawn, lifting whole plants to keep them from being buried in the sand, and shifting them slightly for artistic balance.
Heso stomped out of the biggest house. "Epee and Falchion want this one. Shouldn't we have it?"
"Whatever for?" Rior raised an eyebrow. "I'm sick and tired of living in a nursery playground."
Heso snorted. "Three of the kids are yours, you know."
"Four, actually. Roddie will be staying with me. And I can bubble him whenever I want some peace and quiet."
Heso blinked. "So, Eldon and I could have a home of our own, home theater, computer games, whatever we want?"
"So long as you come in and do your part at the shop." Rior wrinkled his nose. "Do you actually want to share your home with a goat?"
"Eldon and I have been pals for years, and, well, he figures you'll work out how to reverse the spell pretty soon."
Rior frowned. "It's an active spell. That is, it constantly has to maintain the changes it's made, because they are so different from the natural form of the body. If I simply snap the spell, will everything return to normal? I need to get some animals to test some spells and spell breaking on."
"Is that what you did with Miss Herriette?"
"Yes, and she returned to normal in about a week, with just a bit of prodding from Jade. Good point. We might not be able to get Eldon back exactly the way he was before, but we ought to be able to manage human at a minimum." He wavered a bit. "Right now I think we all need to sleep and recuperate. Next week we can get to work on Eldon."
Heso nodded reluctantly, and walked over to the nearest house. No doubt figuring out which one had the best party layout.
Rior ducked back into the yard of the big house. They'd removed the fences in between the yards, leaving some odd-looking landscaping. Rior spotted Jade and Betelgeuse also looking the houses over. Rior did the same, and was content when they left him the other end house. Next week the proceeds from the shop would buy furniture. Today he stretched out on his bedroll and slept for three hours, then showered, changed and rounded up people to go to the shop.
The beauty shop. Laser hair growth stimulation was expensive and they were getting floods of men coming in for the treatment. Not that there was an actual laser involved. All done by magic. A simple spell that took a few seconds, all while they were rubbing a fancy doodad over the men's scalps, and then slathering on aloe "soothing" lotion. Washing it off. The only problem was figuring out what to do to make them think they'd gotten their money's worth. Right then. A week later, with the peach fuzz growing, they'd be hoping, and a month later telling every bald man they encountered all about The Distinguished Head of Hair.
The first week they'd bought cars. The next month they'd fixed up the shop to look like a gentleman's club. Two more months had brought in enough money to buy two of the houses outright, and put substantial down payments on the other two. They'd be rich by the end of the year. Pity they couldn't license franchises.
Chapter Five
11 November 1999
Epee and Betelgeuse were yawning as he pulled into the parking lot and hit the brakes harder than he'd planned. Police and ambulances everywhere. Well, only one ambulance.
A policeman walked up to their car. Rior hit the button to drop the window. "Do you have business here, sir?"
"We own The Distinguished Head of Hair. What happened?"
"Why don't you park right there. The Inspector will want to talk to you."
Rior parked where the man had pointed and they all got out.
"Someone must have died." Betelgeuse said. "Otherwise the ambulance would be running."
Indeed.
The Inspector eyed them thoughtfully. "I'm Jerry Lanton, with the Houston Police Department Homicide division. And you are?"
They rattled off their acquired names and produced the plastic cards that pretended to guarantee that. Lanton gave Epee, who looked twenty, maybe, and Betelgeuse, who looked much less, a studied look, then turned to Rior. "Well, Mr. Whithy perhaps you could assist us in identifying a body found on your premises. I think the ladies shouldn't look."
Rior knew them better, but
nodded and followed the Inspector into the shop. There was blood around, the kind of spray one gets with arteries, and a body on the floor. The head was turned enough to recognize the man.
"That's Rex, umm, Rex . . . The owner, or maybe just the manager, we give him the money for the lease each month. I ought to remember his last name, starts with an S?" Rior looked at the body baffled, and then around the shop. Apart from the blood . . . "Someone has been into the drawers and cabinets. Took the aloe, and the laser."
"What sort of laser?"
"Umm, fake. It's actually the herbs in the lotion we put on after that does the trick. But men will pay more for some fancy looking machine that sort of hums and flashes than they will for slathering stuff on their heads and making them sit still for half an hour."
"Have many customers?"
"Averages twenty a day, but it's been getting busier. Two hundred dollars per treatment. Mostly e-pay, we bank the rest every night. There's no money here."
The Inspector wandered around the front of the shop. "So, when a man comes for an appointment you set him down in front of a fake fireplace with newspapers and magazines to read?"
"Or at one of the game tables or the TV room." Rior nodded. "We don't have so many customers that there's usually any wait at all."
"And these two barber's chairs are where you do your thing?" He looked up at the swing arm with the dangling cut wires. "Your buzzing fake laser dangles down and you rub their scalp and slather on your secret formula?"
"Right. Then with a towel around their heads, they go back and read, play, watch or whatever. Then a hot towel wipe down, shampoo and brush if needed, and off they go."
"After paying."
"Generally we deal with the crass commercialism while they're walking about in their towel turbans."
"I see. So why was Mr. Hennissee murdered here?"
"Well, if none of the other shops have been ripped off, it may have been some idiot that thought we kept money here." Rior looked at the body, baffled. "They must have just chosen this shop at random. There just isn't anything here to draw anyone specifically . . . why were you here?"
"Anonymous phone call. The patroller who checked found the door unlocked."
Rior walked back to the front door. "It's not damaged, so either Rex let himself and his killer in, or the killer took his keys."
"Or one of you killed him."
Rior shrugged. "Why?"
They gave the police their new addresses and withdrew to the inexpensive eatery around the corner and tucked into large breakfasts. Rior filled the two women in on what he'd seen, they told him about all the good looking policemen and that Holly had shown up and been sent away after a quick look at her shop showed it undisturbed.
Chapter Six
November 1999
". . . so the goat has to go."
Epee frowned at the neighbor. The woman was middle-aged, and was either ill or overdid the diet thing they were so hung up on, here. Epee wondered if telling her that men wanted boobs on their women would help or make it worse.
Falchion, who'd ducked out early, came back, smiling. "Now, Eppie, you shouldn't tease the neighbors. We don't have a goat, but the kids sometimes like to make noises. Most likely Mrs. Hargraves spotted that deer that was eating the garden this morning. I've never seen one so dark, I thought they were all tannish brown."
Mrs. Hargraves crossed her arms. "That's very amusing, but we simply can't allow . . ." She broke off as Epee pointed past her.
"Look, there it is!" Eldon hadn't looked very goat-like, but morphing his horns into a semblance of deer antlers didn't make him look very deer-like, either. He turned and bounded up the slope of the levee, poised dramatically for a moment, then bounded off and out of sight.
"It seems awfully tame." Falchion said. "Or is this rutting season? I've heard the bucks can get pretty bold."
Mrs. Hargraves hesitated. "Perhaps . . . I was mistaken."
She caught several other references to 'that tame black deer' at the pool over the next few days, two of the women so dreamy-eyed she took Eldon apart for a little talk about not fouling their own nest and just how far away that would mean, if he was going to play those sorts of tricks. He gave her a wicked goat smirk, and an orgasm spell. Epee clouted him, gently, and sent him away. She wasn't that horny, yet.
And wasn't going to be until after the kid arrived. Medical care here was just amazing, no midwives, they treated childbirth like it was a medical emergency, with more equipment and expense than could be believed.
***
Falchion snorted as they left the doctor's office. "I think it would be easier if we just had the babies at home and stole more IDs."
"Not to mention cheaper." Epee shrugged. "But we might as well do this the usual way, here. Rior says genuine documentation for these two will make the others more believable."
It was an easy drive home, and there was the police car parked and waiting for them again.
"Hi Jerry. No luck yet, or do you just like us?" They dragged him inside, and collapsed in the AC. "I'm ready to head north, to a cooler climate." Epee claimed. The living room was a bit messy; four kids lived here and as often as not their friends were here too. Right now they were, in theory, with Betelgeuse.
The police inspector tried to maintain some sort of professional dignity, but failed miserably. "My sisters say being pregnant in the summer is hell. So, is Rex the father of any of these kids?"
Falchion chuckled. "Don't be silly. Never laid eyes on the man until we moved here, umm, four months ago. So you can't figure out any reason anyone would kill him?"
"I can't figure out why it happened in your store, not anywhere else."
"Well, we make a lot of money. I don't know if that's true of the other stores or not. Nor why anyone would think we were stupid enough to leave it there overnight. Do you suppose it was one of our professional rivals? Wanting to know how we do it? Have we been here long enough for that?"
Epee fanned herself slowly. "It'll be such a relief when the kid arrives. Then I can get back to being the femme fatale and you can legitimately grill me. So, who wanted to kill Rex? I don't think I saw him more than three times, and he was always alone. Where'd he live? Did he have a wife? Kids? Did he have a habit of poking around the rented stores?"
"Did he?" Jerry eyed her.
Falchion laughed. "No! If he had we'd have been in big trouble right away. When we got here we lived there until we had income and could rent an apartment."
Epee nodded. "You're right. He'd have walked in on us and all the children and freaked out. Drat, there goes my perfectly good theory."
"Still, I'll ask around. Excuse me, ladies."
Chapter Seven
November 1999
Holly glared at Julia. "Since you own half the business, it would be really nice if you'd do half the work."
Julia blinked vaguely at her. "Oh? Yeah, I suppose."
"Well, why don't you suppose yourself out to the back and unload and wash the tables and chairs from two nights ago? Honestly, Julia, where were you yesterday? I almost called Mom."
"Oh, I went out for a run in the morning . . . and I sort of got lost somehow. Or maybe I fell and hit my head. Honestly, I had the most embarrassing dreams! This little black deer, well, small for a deer . . . Umm, and then I woke up walking down the path along the bayou."
Holly frowned at her. "Daydreaming or drugged, Julia?"
"I never did more than marijuana and haven't had any for years. It was just the crowd I ran with in high school, you don't need to treat me like a criminal. I don't quite know what happened yesterday. I just laid down for a minute and I was out for hours."
"Well, you're here now. Have fun with the tables and chairs."
"Couldn't I do the accounts?"
"They're done. Get your butt out there and work."
Julia yawned but headed for the door. "I wonder what a deer symbolizes in dream analysis?"
"If it was male, it probably means you need
to find a boyfriend before you go buggy. If it was a girl, it probably means you've turned Lesbian."
"Not all dream images are sexual, Holly!"
"That Elderberry guy seems to think so. He didn't give you anything, did he?"
"That's incense he burns, not drugs. And I haven't seen him for weeks. Maybe after work I'll go ask him about the deer."
"And whether he slipped you a date rape drug yesterday. Julia, you aren't acting normally. Maybe I should take you home, and come back and do the tables and chairs myself."
"I didn't take anything. I have work to do, so excuse me." She stomped out, trying to slam the door into the garage space.
Holly scowled at the door. All she needed was a druggie for a business partner. Julia was ten months younger than she was, and had turned her high school years into a nightmare. It wasn't easy being the 'nice' sister. Not when your sister was younger, prettier, wilder. A nympho who never said no.
"One more hint that you're back on drugs and this business is closed and sold, sister mine." Holly jumped when the phone rang and picked up. "Castles of Air, how can I help you?" She took the details of what was wanted, writing up a quote as the man spoke and gave him the total, which he seemed to find shocking. The police detective walked in halfway through her explaining that, no, she didn't negotiate, and no, there was no way she could give him a discount.
"Detective, umm, Lanton?" She received a nod. "How can I help you?"
"You been in business here for three years? How old were you when you started?"
"Eighteen. I'd worked weekends for an old guy that rented tables and chairs for parties. When he had a heart attack and his doctor told him to really retire this time, he sold me the tables and chairs. The castles were my idea. And I've doubled the number of tables and chairs." She blushed, knowing she sounded like she was bragging.
"Have you ever suspected anyone here in this center of having a seriously dishonest business?"