Her fur vibrated under my fingers as she purred and started to warm up, and my fingers loosened. I closed my eyes and pressed my face against hers as her whiskers tickled my face. When the door to the room opened, I was feeling better.
Vanessa stood in the doorway in a short outfit with her hair in two braids, one dangling over each shoulder. Her top was a long-sleeved, loose-fitting white shirt that dipped down very low to display her cleavage. The red skirt flared out as she spun to show off. The look was completed by a huge black corset that pulled her slim middle into an extreme hourglass.
She looked like she was about to serve beers at Oktoberfest. And dangling from a hanger hooked over her fingers was a matching outfit. “Here, put this on. We’re going to save the day.” She tossed it onto the table.
“What?” I stared between her and the costume draped across the table.
“It’s our disguise.”
“What?”
She rolled her eyes at me and closed the door behind her. “Stop saying that and put it on.”
I started to stand, pausing to let Patagonia jump off my lap, then went over to feel the costume. The fabric was stiff and scratchy. A label in the back of the shirt listed Rambler Costumes as the owner. “You need to stop and explain what in the world you are thinking.”
She blew out her breath in a huff. “We’re going to dress as pretzel girls and hand out Granner’s pretzel bites and cheese sauce all over the convention.”
I waited for her to continue, but she didn’t. “What am I missing? You said we’re going to save the day and we need a disguise. What does that have to do with handing out pretzels?” I rubbed my arms to warm up more. Maybe the brush with the seers had also affected my brain.
“I can’t believe I have to spell this out for you. We’re going to solve the murder and make sure that they don’t pin it on Granner.” She tossed the costume at me.
My eyebrows flew up as the outfit hit my chest and fell to the floor. “They think Granner did it?”
Patagonia pounced onto the pile of fabric to chew on the strings of the waist cincher.
“That seems to be the leading theory this morning. And mage justice isn’t like that stuff on television where they catch the bad guy. Mages tend to take care of things themselves with accidents, or worse, they get shunned from society because everyone believes they are guilty. It’s a fate worse than death. Whole families can get cut off.”
“So the marshal isn’t going to catch the killer?”
She shrugged. “Maybe. It happens sometimes. Then the person gets passed up the chain of command for imprisonment. But the position is all about politics rather than sleuthing. If we can find the killer and prove they did it, then the marshal won’t have any choice but to capture the guilty. And Granner’s name would be cleared.”
“No one could really believe that your great-great-grandmother killed that man… could they?” I picked up the costume from the floor and dangled the strings over Patagonia, who batted at them and gnawed on the ends.
“Uh, totally. They’re already saying it. He was found under her cheese.”
“Like she could have picked it up. She could barely lift her purse.”
“Oh, Ella, it’s not like she would have picked it up by hand. Whoever did it used magic, and the spell could have been prepared weeks before. You need to think more like a mage and less like a human.” She shuddered at the idea.
“Vin can find the killer. We don’t need to do anything.” Vin was smart and ran security for the casino. He was far more prepared than we were to solve this.
“If he could, he would, but the marshal expects him to be at his beck and call. Vin was complaining this morning. That’s when I put together my plan. Vin is the point person for the casino and can’t run his own investigation. That’s why we need to do it.”
“I think I should stay here. I don’t want to run into the marshal. It doesn’t feel… safe.” A prickle of unease crawled up my back.
“We’re not going to do anything dangerous. It’s not like I’ll pull out a light to interrogate people. We’ll just pretend to help Granner, and if someone happens to say something, then so be it.” She checked her watch. “Besides, you don’t want to hang out in here. The marshal will be here in five minutes to set up camp.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I grabbed my purse off the table and raced to the door. “You’ve got a deal, but we must keep it low key.”
***
I tugged on the skirt to pull the hem as low as possible without sliding the waistband out from under the corset. Smoothing out the shirt, I imagined Vin seeing me and adjusted the neckline a tiny bit lower.
“Exhale, and I’ll tighten up the corset.” Vanessa wrapped the cords around her hands and gently pulled.
“It doesn’t need to be too tight—oof!” All my breath was pushed out of my lungs as she pressed her knee against my back and pulled hard on the cords. I grabbed the bathroom counter and wheezed. “Easy.”
She tied a bow, hopefully with a quick release in case I passed out, and tucked the laces back under the corset. “There. You look awesome.”
I gave a little spin and admired myself in the mirror. “I’ll admit that it does make my waist look nice.”
“Here.” She pulled out a few bobby pins and passed them too me. “You have some loose hair.”
I pinned back hairs tangling in my face and patted the long red braids, which reached past my waist. My hair had been long before I started training but had steadily grown. If I didn’t get some time off to get a trim, I would need to hack it off myself before I started tripping over it. Shuddering at the thought, I focused on the task at hand. “Go check that the marshal and his goons are out of the hallway before I leave.”
I watched my reflection take another spin while Vanessa leaned out the door. The costume wasn’t high quality, and I was already sweating, but it actually was kind of cute.
“Come on, Ella.”
I grabbed my purse and followed her out the door, holding it open for Patagonia, who had a piece of toilet paper attached to her rear foot. With a giggle, I leaned over to pull it off. As I stood and turned, I ran smack into someone.
“Why are you two dressed like that?” Vin asked, though his eyes lingered on me a bit longer than on Vanessa.
“We’re going to help Granner pass out samples.” I gave a spin that lifted my skirt a little and exposed my legs all the way down to my black ballet flats.
His eyes flicked down briefly but snapped back up. “You look like that little girl from that book. The one in the alps. Heidi. Or maybe Pippi Longstocking with your long red braids. Perhaps you should stick them straight out to the sides.”
I harrumphed at his nonsexy comparison, wishing again that I could read his emotions, which he kept off his face.
He stepped in closer and lowered his voice. “Are you two planning to check out the murder?”
“Let me guess.” I crossed my arms across my middle, mostly because I was annoyed, but the lift to my chest was a benefit. “You want us to stay away and not get involved in your little investigation. Right?”
“Actually, I was hoping you would nose around and have some ideas of what you should do.”
“What’s the catch?” I looked at Vanessa, who shrugged in reply.
Vin looked over his shoulder. “The marshal wants me to stay with him, and he has my whole team at his disposal, so I can’t investigate myself. And frankly, he’s more concerned with politics than with solving the case. That’s convenient for him, but I want this casino and Granner cleared of any wrongdoing.”
I pursed my lips and nodded. “Fair enough. What do you want us to do?”
“First off, try to keep below everyone’s radar. I don’t need to be making excuses for either of you if you goof up.” He gave his sister a meaningful look before turning back to me. “But specifically, I have Raymond in the security office, pulling up footage from the night that the murder must have happened. I’m not sure if
Michael arrived in a cab, bus, or whatever. I’m hoping that he drove a car or maybe had a friend drop him off. If it was either of those, then maybe you can find something before the marshal realizes it. Give Raymond about an hour then head over there, but make sure to stay out of the marshal’s way. He has already asked casually about Mom’s new apprentice. I was able to give him a vague answer to distract him, but next time, I might not be so lucky.”
A little chill went down my spine at the thought of the marshal asking after me. “We’ll be careful and totally inconspicuous.”
Vin grabbed my arm, his thumb gently rubbing across my skin. “Be careful, and try to keep Vanessa out of trouble. She attracts it.” He turned to leave.
I placed a hand over the spot he had touched. Whatever hesitation I’d had about investigating slowly melted away. What kind of trouble could I really get into just listening and talking to Raymond? “You heard him, Vanessa. Let’s get to work.”
***
The convention hall was not as crowded as it had been the day before, and a few vendors’ spaces were now empty. We passed the location Granner’s booth had occupied. In its place was a bare expanse of carpeting fresh from a deep cleaning. Gold poles and velvet rope discouraged people from standing in the space, though everyone was already giving it a wide berth.
A grim man stood nearby, studying the passing crowd. Like with the booth, people made wide circles to avoid passing too close to him. He exuded a negative energy like a foul smell that pushed people away. His skin was sallow and taut, pulled tight over his cheekbones. An orange cat sat at his feet, tail twitching back and forth, as it surveyed the crowd through narrowed eyes like its master.
I pulled my shoulders forward and tried to shrink from sight as we walked past. The man’s eyes slipped over me, pausing only long enough to see me before moving on to Vanessa. His boredom registered with me enough to know that once I moved on, he would forget me.
I thought Vanessa had missed him until her hand reached out to grab mine more tightly than necessary.
We turned a corner before I heard her let out a breath she had been holding. “Oh, crap on a croissant. I didn’t realize Peter was here with the marshal.”
Patagonia pressed into my side, gently trembling. “Who was that?”
“Peter Bruno. This murder has brought out every scary man in town.” She shivered before dragging me down the aisle.
“What’s his deal?” I paused to scoop up Patagonia. She was pressed in so close I was bound to trip over her otherwise.
“He’s just creepy and scary. He works for the marshal or with him or something. Sometimes when we used to visit town, before Uncle Edward was killed, we would attend big important functions hosted here. But since we moved here to help Olivia take over her dad’s businesses, she hasn’t asked us to attend. I think she wants it to be clear who is in charge. Oh, look, there’s Granner.”
We approached a section with a sign marking Rambler local businesses. Granner’s booth was tacked onto the end of the row, jutting out past all the other rows. It had been relocated, and the center of the booth was markedly empty without the world’s largest wedge of cheese dominating that space.
Granner leaned on a cabinet that bordered her only neighbor as she chatted away with the twenty-something woman on the other side. The woman, with her distinctive asymmetric bob, was wearing a Big M Dairy apron and was the same person who had asked us questions yesterday when Vanessa had accidentally announced Michael’s murder.
Granner had an ancient cat at her elbow on the countertop, the completely white face blending into the grey fur that covered the rest of its body. Its shoulder blades stuck out through the thin coat.
Granner absently stroked behind the cat’s ears. “I can’t believe it. This is the first year I got out of the local vendor section, and suddenly I am back again. I swear Michael did this to me from beyond the grave. A pain in my patootey one last time.”
The gal opposite her nodded in agreement. “Him and those stupid seven-hundred-dollar green boots that he loved—Oh, Granner, I think you have customers.” She had cut herself off suddenly, probably embarrassed to be mocking the fashion sense of a dead man. Regret and some other negative emotions I couldn’t identify drifted off her as she turned and suddenly became engrossed in cleaning her milkshake machine.
Granner gasped as she looked us up and down. “What in the Sam Hill are you girls wearing?”
Auntie Ann stood up from digging in a box. “Thank goodness you’re here. When they moved the booth over here, they just threw everything into boxes and—What are you…? Are you dressed like those sexy Japanese cartoon girls?”
My cheeks heated as I turned to Vanessa. “I thought Granner wanted us to wear these. Why am I wearing this?” I tucked my purse away in a cabinet, hoping turning away would hide my embarrassed face for a moment.
“She did. She said to get something appropriate for passing out pretzels.”
Granner chuckled, and she scooped the ancient familiar off the cabinet to put her on a silk pillow on the floor. They mirrored each other: frail, ancient, and thin. They couldn’t weigh more than one hundred pounds combined. But there was a stiff resolve underpinning them that made me doubt they were really helpless.
“I meant like black pants, but this will work. But don’t let any men grab at your goodies. Annie, dear, help me put some pretzels on a tray, but not whole pretzels. I want to cut them up. I’m not made of money.”
Auntie Ann looked at Vanessa and rolled her eyes and mouthed, “So cheap.” She got out a knife to cut the soft pretzels into little pieces as Granner opened two containers of soft cheese to dip the morsels into.
Granner tottered over to place the open containers on two trays. “Annie, those are too big. Girls, you make sure that no one double dips their pretzels. One dip per sample! And for heaven sakes, only one sample each.”
Auntie Ann pursed her lips and adjusted her knife to cut the pieces smaller.
“No, still too big. At least half that.”
“If I make them any smaller, there be won’t enough to dip in the cheese,” Auntie Ann exclaimed.
“Give that to me. I’ll do it myself.” Granner huffed while her gnarled fingers reached for the knife.
“Never mind. I’ll do it like you asked.”
“You’re a good girl, Annie.” Granner stood on her tiptoes and gave her a peck on the cheek. She then went to work organizing the trays to her satisfaction.
I leaned over to Vanessa, lowering my voice. “Do they always fight like that?”
Vanessa finished reapplying her lipstick using her phone’s front-facing camera like a mirror. “What are you talking about? That’s not fighting. It’s like you’ve never seen—oh.” Her face turned red as she changed the subject. “Mom says that Granner doesn’t want to accept that she’s a grown-up.”
I had a good guess about what she had been about to say. The one time the topic of my mother had come up, I had rather curtly informed her that I didn’t want to discuss it, even with her, who I confided in on every other subject. I would mention that I had never talked to my father that way, but then she might be the one to remind me of a topic painful for her. She was more open about losing her father, but it wasn’t a pleasant issue.
We stood awkwardly until Granner brought over the trays and handed me a whole pretzel. “Here, take a sampling. This is my famous beer cheese, perfect for dipping.”
I tore a piece off the twisted pretzel and swiped it through the dip. A bit of cheese dripped onto my finger, so hot it almost burned me. “Ouch!”
Granner handed me a napkin. “Be careful. The magic is set to keep it piping hot for hours.”
I wiped my hand then blew on the rising puff of steam before popping the bite into my mouth. The pretzel was soft and chewy. I groaned with pleasure when the heady, savory flavor of the cheese hit my palate. The aged cheddar was perfectly smooth, with hints of garlic and hops. I grabbed another sample, dragged it through the golden sauce,
and popped it into my mouth. The risk of burning the roof of my mouth was worth it. I plowed through the whole pretzel, bite after bite. Each time, the flavor was as pleasant and surprisingly tasty as the first bite had been.
Auntie Ann raised a hand to block my attempt as I reached for a brand-new pretzel to continue chowing my way through the fondue. “Easy. You do know that magic food is addictive, right?”
I pulled my hand back. I had been warned before but had forgotten in the moment. The world spun slightly around me, and I grabbed Vanessa at my side for balance. “Whoa!”
Vanessa giggled. “And alcoholic. Or at least this cheese is because of the beer. It’s got quite a kick to it.”
I licked my lips, grabbing every hint of flavor. “Surely most of the alcohol burns off in cooking.”
“It’s magical, Ella.” She dramatically rolled her eyes then hiccupped.
“Lightweights.” Granner beamed with pride. “You really like it, don’t you?”
I nodded and stood up on my toes, feeling buoyant as the alcohol in the cheese hit my bloodstream. How long had it been since I’d had a drink? “I don’t think I’ve ever had anything this good.”
“I like her. Well, go on, you two. Go get me some customers, and remember, no tasters under twenty-one.”
***
We walked up and down the aisles, avoiding the row in which Peter and his menacing familiar continued to glare at the attendees. We passed out samples and tried to pick up gossip by mentioning “poor Michael,” but we didn’t get as much knowledge as we had hoped.
In the feta section, we tasted cheese that released no odor until it was in our mouths. The owners, a redheaded couple with olive skin, politely nodded and murmured that it was very sad but admitted to only having met him a few times before at previous conventions.
We wandered through the soft cheese square, where brie, camembert, and queso fresco’s delicate textures lured us to stop for some samples. I bought a block of sheep cheese that had been spelled to spread perfectly on even the most delicate and crumbly of crackers.
Which Mage Moved the Cheese? Page 5