Magic & Mercy

by Annabel Chase

  Alec’s placid expression remained intact. “Ah, yes. Springsteen. I do believe I outperformed you that evening, Sheriff.” His gaze lingered on me. “In every respect.”

  My cheeks were on fire. I knew exactly what he was implying and I hoped the sheriff didn’t glean anything from it. It seemed Alec’s desire to one-up the sheriff took precedence over his desire to block out the events of that night.

  Before I had a chance to change the subject, a lively woman came bounding over to us like a busty Saint Bernard.

  “This place is so quaint, Alec,” she cooed. “I adore it.”

  My whole body tensed as her palms stroked his chest. “Who’s your friend?” I asked, desperately hoping to keep a neutral tone.

  “Miss Rose. Sheriff Nash. I’d like you to meet Holly.” He looked down at his companion. “Miss Rose works for me at the newspaper.”

  Holly’s mouth formed a tiny ‘o.’ “How exciting! A girl reporter.”

  Seriously? What century were we in?

  “I prefer the term ‘investigative journalist,’” I said. Beside me, the sheriff snickered.

  “Old friends, Hale?” Sheriff Nash queried.

  Alec opened his mouth to speak, but Holly jumped in first. “I feel like I’ve known him forever, but we only met recently in Rainbow’s End.”

  “I didn’t realize you went to the West Coast,” I said. I thought he was somewhere in the New York area, not that it mattered. He was far away from me, and that was the point.

  “It was sufficiently far,” he said vaguely.

  Bingo.

  “And you’ve come for a visit already, Holly?” I asked. “Seems quick.”

  Holly’s laugh was piercing. “I know, right? If I like it, I just might stay.” She rubbed Alec’s chiseled cheek, and I fought the urge to smack her hand away. Sheriff Nash may have been the werewolf among us, but I was fighting a severe case of animal instinct.

  “Your table is ready, Mr. Hale,” the host said.

  Thank the gods.

  When the host returned, I adopted my friendliest tone. “Would you mind seating us as far away from your last guests as possible? He’s my boss and I feel awkward sitting too close to him when he’s on a date.”

  The host turned to look at where he’d seated Alec and Holly. “Of course, miss. Not to worry.” He steered us to a booth at the opposite end of the restaurant.

  “I don’t picture Alec with a nymph like Holly,” the sheriff said nonchalantly, as he opened his menu.

  “She’s a nymph?” I asked.

  “That’s what she smelled like,” he said.

  I wrinkled my nose. “How does a nymph smell?”

  “With her nose,” he shot back and pounded his fists in the table like it was a drum.

  I groaned. “Does she smell like the sea or something?”

  “She would if she were a water nymph. A naiad. But Holly’s a hamadryad. She smells like the forest.”

  I leaned back and regarded him carefully. “And that appeals to you, I guess? As a werewolf?”

  He shrugged. “The smell does.” He cast a curious look in Holly’s direction. “Not so much the nymph herself.”

  Her laugh pierced the air again, making me cringe. It was worse than nails on a chalkboard. I couldn’t imagine how Alec’s enhanced vampire hearing was tolerating the sound when my average ears were in agony. She banged her hands on the table, shrieking at something Alec said.

  “Okay, he’s not that funny,” I grumbled. His humor was too dry to warrant hysterical laughter.

  “You know, you and I could talk, instead of watching them,” the sheriff said. “If I recall correctly, we’re on our own date.”

  I focused on the menu. “Let’s decide what to eat, and then we’ll decide what to ask the staff about the night Higgins was here.”

  “I see.” The sheriff closed his menu. “Back to business, eh, Rose?”

  “You know what you want already?” I asked, studying the list of specials. Everything sounded delicious.

  “Always do,” he said cryptically. “You seem a little uncertain, though.”

  “Can you blame me?” I asked. “There are several good options here.”

  “Not to me.”

  I tapped the menu. “There are a couple dishes where I like the mains but not the sides, or vice versa. Maybe they’ll let me mix it up.”

  “I guess that’s where we differ, Rose. I only see one good option and it’s perfect exactly the way it is.”

  I finally settled on braised pork with a side of root vegetables. The description included herbs and spices I’d never heard of and I was eager to try them. We ordered from an energetic server named Mikey with the telltale ears of an elf.

  “You never said whether the blood on Simon’s shirt belonged to Higgins,” I said.

  “That’s because you know it did, Rose,” he replied.

  “But you don’t think Simon had anything to do with it, do you?” There was no way Simon would kill anyone, and certainly not with a corkscrew.

  “My guts says no,” the sheriff said. “But there were no prints on the corkscrew, and no blood on anyone else.”

  “So someone was smart enough to wipe down the weapon, but not smart enough to take it with them when they fled?”

  “Or they didn’t wipe it down and fled when they realized what they’d done, leaving the weapon behind.”

  I tapped my fork on the table. “Ghost prints?”

  “Or gloves,” he said. “Half those butlers wear them.”

  I immediately thought of Bates and his white gloves. “If there were gloves involved, there would definitely be traces of blood on them.”

  “If the killer wore gloves, they could have disposed of them anywhere,” the sheriff said.

  “Hey, Mikey,” I said, once the elf delivered our drinks. “Were you working here the other night when a group of butlers came in? They’re hard to miss since they dress like a formal boy band. I’m surprised they don’t walk in V formation. They’re here for a conference.”

  Mikey’s head bobbed up and down enthusiastically. “One of the best tables I ever waited on. I had to stop them from going behind the bar to pour their own drinks when we got slammed.” He tittered. “One of them offered to iron the tablecloth because it had a crease in the wrong place.”

  “They wouldn’t know where to start in my house,” I said. No wonder Simon never came inside. He likely suspected he’d be driven to dip into Aunt Hyacinth’s smelling salts.

  “Send him over to the cottage now because he won’t see a thing,” the sheriff teased.

  “I actually texted Florian to see if he can magic the lights back on while we’re here,” I said smugly. “Marley needs to go to bed anyway.”

  Mikey glanced from the sheriff to me. “Did you have a question about the butlers, or did you just want to confirm they were here?”

  The sheriff cleared his throat. “Yes, of course. Did you happen to overhear any of their conversation?”

  “Bits and pieces,” Mikey said. “One of them was hammered by the end of the meal. He babbled to the others about a map.” He scratched the back of his neck. “Sounded like his boss just died or something, too. He was stressed. The dude had a lot going on.”

  “Did you notice any disagreements or anything unusual?” the sheriff asked.

  “No, they were all very polite, even the drunk one.” Mikey perked up. “Plus, I got a huge tip.” He hesitated. “That I will absolutely report on my taxes.”

  Sheriff Nash gave him a comforting smile. “No worries, Mikey. I’m not the tax police.”

  The butlers’ account of the evening seemed to jive with Mikey’s recollection. That was reassuring.

  “Do you remember how many there were?” the sheriff asked.

  Mikey tugged on the point of his ear. “Five, I think. I can check the merchant copy of the tab.” He gave the sheriff a pointed look. “I assume this is official business.”

  “Absolutely. You’d be serving your comm
unity with more than food for a change, Mikey,” the sheriff said.

  The elf beamed like Santa was leaving him in charge of the North Pole on Christmas. “Let me check on your food and I’ll be back with a copy.” He saluted the sheriff and I stifled a laugh.

  “How’s your cocktail, Rose?” he asked, his attention back on me.

  I smacked my lips together. “Tastes like a rum and Coke.” I’d ordered something called a Tall Stranger. It was served in a Pilsner-style glass and looked thick and syrupy, just the way I imagined it.

  “I don’t know what Coke is, but you’re probably right about the rum.” The sheriff flashed a lopsided grin. “I don’t suppose you’ll let me have a sip.”

  “Sure, I will,” I replied. “Right after the pig on the sign out front takes flight.”

  The werewolf’s dark eyes glittered like two onyx. “You’ve got some funny hang-ups, Rose.”

  “I’m not a werewolf,” I said. “I don’t think that means my preferences should be categorized as hang-ups.”

  “Werewolves aren’t the only kind to share food and drinks,” he said. “Besides, it’s not like we run around stealing food off plates and sipping drinks willy nilly.”

  “Oh no?” I said. “I’ve eaten with Wyatt, don’t forget.”

  The sheriff snorted. “Yeah, well, my brother is his own wolf. Nobody would argue with that. Some of us reserve our sharing for more…special cases.”

  I squinted at him. “Are you trying to tell me that you and Bolan don’t suck the opposite ends of spaghetti together?” The image of them nudging meatballs to each other with their noses nearly had me in stitches.

  “Is that a New Jersey reference, Rose?”

  “Lady and the Tramp,” I said. “I thought Disney transcended realms.”

  “Nope, sorry.” He fiddled with his empty glass. “How would you like to get to know more about the pack?”

  “I’m taking a class at the community college on local history. Maybe there’ll be a section on the werewolves of Starry Hollow.”

  He tapped the rim with such force that the glass wobbled. “I’m not talking about our history, although you’d likely learn a good deal.”

  I eyed him closely. “Sheriff, you seem nervous.”

  “Granger,” he insisted. “We’re on a date, Rose.” He cleared his throat again. Yep. Definitely nervous.

  “Fine. Granger, you seem nervous. What’s up?” I flashed a cheesy smile. “Is that better?”

  “The Nash family is hosting a pack barbecue and I was wondering if you’d like to join me.”

  I choked on my mouthful of thick syrup. “You want me to meet your family?” For the love of Abraham Lincoln, we said we’d take it slow. How did a family barbecue fit in?

  He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “You already know Wyatt, and my mama’s been pestering me…” He trailed off.

  “Your mother wants to meet me? Why?” I had no experience with mothers. Zero. My mother died when I was an infant, and Karl’s mother disowned him when we told them about my pregnancy. I never met my grandmothers. Aunt Hyacinth was the closest to a mother figure I had and that was saying something.

  “She’s my mother. Naturally, she’s interested in my life,” Sheriff Nash said.

  “You mean she meddles,” I replied.

  “She really doesn’t.” He gave me a hard look. “Do you think Wyatt would be half as bad as he is if my mother chose to meddle? She gave up boxing his ears years ago.”

  Maybe she should’ve kept at it, for the good of the female gender. “I don’t know if we’re at the meet-the-parents stage of this relationship,” I said.

  “I’ll take good care of you, Rose,” he said. “Besides, it’s an all-day party, not an inquisition. My cousin’s band is playing. Lots of good food. It’ll be fun.”

  “Will it just be werewolves?”

  “Mostly, but there are some mixed partnerships. My cousin Vinnie is married to a werebear. He always liked ‘em big.”

  “Will I be the only witch?” I asked.

  He raised his glass to get Mikey’s attention. “Not sure. Does it matter?”

  “I guess not.”

  “It’ll be a chance for you to meet paranormals outside of your aunt’s influence,” the sheriff said.

  “I thought no one was outside of her sphere of influence,” I said, smiling.

  ”The pack is pretty strong,” he replied. “We stand up to the Rose-Muldoons when it counts.”

  I frowned. “It sounds like I may not be a popular choice.”

  He reached across the table and squeezed my hand. “You’re my choice. Doesn’t matter whether it’s a popular one. For what it’s worth, everybody liked Linnea. They were mighty disappointed in Wyatt when he screwed that up.”

  I nodded. “We’re all on the same page there.”

  “No pressure,” he said. “If you don’t like the idea, I’ll drop it.”

  Before I could respond, Mikey returned to the table with our food. “I also brought the merchant tab.” He set a copy on the table. “If you have any more questions, I’ll do what I can to help.”

  “Thanks, Mikey,” the sheriff said. “Appreciate it.”

  A peal of laughter rang out, which quickly evolved into a loud snort. I groaned. “Aren’t they on dessert yet?”

  “Relax, Rose. They’re having fun.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Well, she is. Hard to tell with Hale. He always looks like someone’s stolen his favorite toy.”

  I swallowed hard. Maybe because someone had.

  “Okay, Granger,” I said, surprising myself. If Alec was willing to find other ways to entertain himself, then so was I. “I like to eat and listen to music. I’ll come to your barbecue.”

  He visibly relaxed. “That’s great, Rose. It’ll be a good time. You won’t regret it.”

  I offered a threatening smile. “Just don’t try to share my food, or you’ll end up in a body cast.”

  He held up his hands. “Consider me warned.”

  Chapter 8

  On the way to the convention center the next morning, I stopped by the sheriff’s office to check with Deputy Bolan on any updates. He made every effort to ignore me until I planted myself between him and the coffee machine.

  “I’m heading over to the conference now,” I said. “It would be helpful to know if there’s been new information before I stick my foot in my mouth.”

  He gave my shoes a withered look. “And here I thought you liked the taste of cheap pleather.”

  I placed a hand on my hip. “Listen, Martian Man.”

  “There are rules about disparaging law enforcement. You would know that if you paid attention to rules other than those of your own creation.”

  Before I could answer, the deputy took the opportunity to dart around me and swiped the coffee pot from its base.

  “A simple yes or no, Bolan,” I said. “Any updates?”

  “Didn’t you discuss the case last night on your date?” the deputy sneered.

  “I know you’re happily married to the best husband in the world,” I began, “but you give the distinct impression that you have a thing for your boss.”

  “That makes two of us,” he shot back.

  Ooh. Touché, leprechaun.

  “What’s going on? What’s happened?” A middle-aged woman rushed into the office, her cheeks flushed and her loose chignon sliding down to the nape of her neck. Her spider-like body teetered on a pair of skinny heels. She smelled like she’d bathed in an English garden on the way over. Better than a garbage dump, I supposed.

  “Calm down, ma’am,” Deputy Bolan said. He moved in front of her to slow her frenetic pace. “How can we help?”

  “Higgins,” she said breathlessly. “My butler is here for a conference. I received a troubling call…”

  Her butler? I thought Higgins’ estate had lost its owner recently.

  Deputy Bolan’s expression clouded over. “I see. May I have your name?”

  “Laura Stanhope.” She sucked
in air. “Please tell me nothing is amiss.” She moaned. “Oh, don’t be a fool, Laura. Of course, something is amiss. They’ve summoned you to the sheriff’s office. Is he in trouble for something? Whatever the issue is, I can promise you it wasn’t him. Higgins is as trustworthy as they come. My mother’s judgment was impeccable.”

  Deputy Bolan and I exchanged bemused glances. We weren’t often on the same page, but I clearly saw ‘nut job’ etched in the lift of his greenish eyebrows.

  “Come this way, Mrs. Stanhope,” he said, guiding her to the conference room.

  “Miss Stanhope,” she corrected him fiercely.

  “My apologies, Miss Stanhope,” he said. “Sheriff Nash will be in to speak with you in a moment.”

  “Thank you.”

  We heard her muttering to herself as she disappeared into the interrogation room.

  “Why don’t you babysit her while I get the sheriff?” Deputy Bolan asked.

  “Really? You trust me to do that?”

  “It’ll only be two minutes,” he replied. “How much harm can you do?” He paused. “On second thought, I’ll sit with Miss Stanhope. You fetch the sheriff.”

  “Deal.” I hurried to his office. I didn’t want to miss a second of Miss Stanhope. Not when we might finally get a break in the case.

  “What’s the matter, Rose?” Sheriff Nash looked up from his desk to see me framed in the doorway.

  “I’m a complete witch.”

  “This is news?” he queried.

  “I don’t mean the magical kind,” I said. Laura Stanhope was near hysteria and the only thing I could think of was that she could represent a break in the case. Where was my humanity?

  “What’d you do now? Break the copy machine with pictures of your butt? Don’t sweat it. We have pixies on call that can fix it in a jiffy.”

  “Nothing like that.” I pushed down the shame and continued. “You have someone in the interrogation room. Laura Stanhope.”

  “That was quick,” he said. “I didn’t expect her until tomorrow.”

  “She seems like she came in a hurry,” I said. “You’d better bring a box of tissues.” And a straightjacket.

  He grabbed a box from the shelf behind his desk. “Thanks for the tip. You sitting in?”