Murder, Magic, and Moggies

by Pearl Goodfellow

  “But, I do not know,” the golem pointed out from across the room. “Can you tell me?”

  Even as I bit my lip at the pain of the memories, something about the innocent sincerity of how the question was asked just got to me.

  “Nobody’s coming, boss lady,” Shade said from a distant corner of the shop as he walked out of the shadows. “You want to tell her; it’ll be a private conversation.”

  “What if she doesn’t want to?” Gloom asked her brother from some hidden nook. “I wouldn’t.”

  I was with Gloom on how I felt. But the golem had earned an honest answer. Feeling like this conversation would be easier if I were closer, I walked over to where the golem was sweeping. She looked up at me, but her sweeping never broke stride. Even more impressively, the broom was collecting all the errant peppermint leaves, black peppercorns, and other various spilled herbs and spices as if she was looking right at them.

  “When I was a kid,” I said, leaning against the nearest shelf. “My parents…they died in a house fire. I nearly did too…probably would have if Dad hadn’t gotten me out.”

  The golem thankfully said nothing, just kept sweeping and watching.

  “But then,” I said, the memory choking my throat. “Then Dad…he went back inside for m…my mom. And…and he never came back out. I…”

  Forcing my throat to work, I added, “I was studying magic from them at that point. I knew about Diluvium but I could never…make it work right. All I had to do…was just call up the spell right and all the water I’d ever need would come crashing out of the void. Enough to put the fire out, and … probably save my parents at the same time.”

  I felt the tears pushing their way past my eyelids as I remembered that night as if it was happening right now. “And I couldn’t…I just…”

  I had to stop. It wasn’t just the tears. Memories that painful only hurt worse when you bring them up again. The golem’s face actually seemed to soften. She gave a small nod as she turned her eyes back to her sweeping. A black shape jumped past her broom to come nuzzle up to my leg. I didn’t hesitate. I was on the floor rubbing Onyx on the head as he purred and rubbed his silky head against my tear stained cheeks.

  “A little after that is when we showed up,” he said gently between his gentle head butts. “Hattie’s Grandma Chimera hadn’t seen us in nearly ten years, but we had made a promise to come back when the time was right. That time arrived with the death of Hattie’s parents.”

  The golem looked down at Onyx with a blank expression. “Then all of your fellow cats here are related?”

  “We are,” Onyx assured her while I rubbed his back. “We Lemniscate have been attached to this dear one’s family for many generations now. Hattie here is the first one to insist on calling us by another name. But I must admit that ‘Infiniti’ is an appropriate substitute for our preferred group title.”

  The golem's sweeping was nearly done. As she finished, she asked, “Are you attached to the paternal or maternal side of Hattie’s family?”

  “Maternal,” Onyx confirmed as I got back to my feet. “Chimera Opal was Hattie’s grandmother on her mother’s side.”

  The golem frowned. “I still don’t quite understand why you are now known by another name, Hattie.”

  I was spared the agony of having to answer by Gloom speaking up. “I personally don’t think that her changing her name was such a good idea. Grandma Chimera would have had a real problem with it, and I do too.”

  “I think you’re selling Chimera very short, sister,” Onyx countered as he moved towards the stairs, his tone letting her know that anything nastier than what she had said would not be tolerated.

  “Hey, I’m with you, O,” Shade piped up. “I mean, sure, I doubt she’d have been thrilled. But I think she would have gotten the why of it.”

  The fireplace suddenly combusted with a burst of flame, making me jump. The mixture that was in the cauldron started burning too, spitting out blue and green flames that smelled anything but pleasant.

  “Carbon!” I snapped. “I told you not to do that while the Phoenix Flare was still in the pot.”

  “Well, I’m sorry,” Carbon said sheepishly. “I was cold.”

  I shook my head and marched over to the fireplace. The entire building could be burning down around our heads, and Carbon would still be cold.

  The stench and heat coming from the cauldron gave me pause though. Phoenix Flare wasn’t exactly Mainland mustard gas but letting it burn wasn’t a good idea for anyone’s long-term health. But thanks to Carbon’s idiotic kicking up the heat, it was burning too hot for me to approach safely.

  “Allow me,” the golem said, walking past me. She marched right up to the burning cauldron and put her hands over the flames. Several phrases in what sounded like Yiddish were spoken over the fire in a sing-song manner. Gradually, the flames went down, the golem’s hands keeping pace with the outer edge of the flames. Finally, they extinguished themselves, and the pot was once again boiling at its normal intensity.

  “That…was…amazing,” Millie said in astonishment as the golem stepped aside so I could check the pot.

  “I was born in flame and dust,” the golem noted with a shrug. “Perhaps that is why I am so good with fire.”

  I sighed as I looked at the mixture. While the golem had succeeded in keeping anything hazardous from happening to us, the impromptu explosion had utterly ruined the Phoenix Flare. I was going to have to start from scratch on this tomorrow, which would delay delivery by a day. Carbon made a point of going upstairs, probably to hide under the bed with Fraidy.

  “We’re going to have to dump this out,” I said with a sigh, picking up the cauldron.

  “Allow me,” the golem said again as she lent her arm strength to the task.

  “Dumping ground’s just over here,” Millie told the golem, pointing her to a trap door right behind the counter.

  A glow of mushrooms greeted us as Millie got the door for us. The light dimmed a bit as we poured the tainted goo down the hole. The mushrooms would soak it up like miniature sponges and turn it back into harmless groundwater. I had to admit that this dump was a lot easier with the golem to help me out. When the last drop had hit bottom, Millie closed the trapdoor.

  “Would you like me to clean—“ the golem started to ask.

  “No, I’ll get this one myself,” I said, holding up a hand. “It’s going to take more than Green Man to make this old cauldron usable again.”

  “And wouldn’t you know it, it’s a minute past closing time,” Millie said as she glanced at the clock.

  While she busied herself locking the front door, I carried the cauldron to the back. As I sat it down, I noticed that the golem had followed me over.

  I tried to keep my annoyance to a minimum as I asked, “Something else you wanted to ask me?”

  “No, tell you,” the golem said. “You did not care for my former mistress, did you?”

  “That’s the polite way to put it,” I allowed. “But, that sounded more like asking me a question than telling me something.”

  “An observation,” the golem countered. “Few people did care for Nebula Dreddock, and none are sorry that she is dead.”

  Feeling a little uncomfortable with the golem’s bluntness, I asked, “So what’s your point?”

  “However much you detested Nebula Dreddock, you are still compelled to solve her murder. You have seen untimely death up close, and you take it as a personal insult. If this murder was done by human hands, then the owner of those hands must pay.”

  I pulled my head back but nodded. Onyx himself couldn’t have come to a better conclusion, and he had been around me longer than she had.

  “How did you get to be so wise?” I asked, a bemused smile coming on my face on its own.

  “Thirty-nine years of being among humans has taught me much,” the golem said.

  Something about that number tickled my brain. I was still trying to place it when Millie came to the back to say goodnight.

>   Chapter 11

  The next couple of days were a little dull for me. I had spent half the night finishing the cleaning of the cauldron that the golem had started, so I was less than refreshed when I opened the shop the next morning. Even my delivery route barely kept me awake.

  The next day, I felt a little better (going to sleep at a decent hour works wonders, I've discovered,) but there were no deliveries on the agenda. I wound up spending the whole day at the shop, catching up on the accounting books while the golem continued to do most of the scut work under Millie’s careful supervision.

  Both days, I kept waiting for word from David on the case. Both days, I was disappointed. But, there was really nothing to be done. I had met most of the suspects by this point and passed on my information to David. Now I just had to let him sort through the findings until he needed me once more. I confess I was hoping it would be soon. Still, the golem’s observation about why I had enthusiastically embraced being involved in this case stuck with me. I found myself getting restless, twitchy, wanting to take the time to consider clues, as opposed to doing the things that would have kept me calm before all this started.

  By closing time on the second day, I decided that I needed something to help calm my nerves enough to sleep. That’s when I consulted one of my favorite relaxing bath mixes from Grandma’s journals: Serene Scents a calming bath soak that consisted of:

  10 drops of lavender

  10 drops of bergamot

  8 drops of frankincense.

  Each of them had a complimentary reason to be in the mix. Frankincense is great for helping still the mind, lavender works wonders as a physical and mental relaxant, and bergamot was a citrusy, uplifting oil that helps calm people down. As a bonus, all three oils were perfect for skin care, especially frankincense when it comes to aging skin and wrinkles. I can still hear Grandma laughingly say that the Mainland could keep their Oil of O-whatever.

  Of course, thoughts of anti-aging substances made me think of Wraithsgourd which in turn made me think of Nebula’s death. There was something about that which was still bugging me, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. I’m just glad it never got to the level of consciousness where I couldn’t sleep. But even as I was tumbling off to Dreamland, I realized that I was focused on this case more than I ever had any of the day-to-day things I had done around the shop in a while.

  My restlessness came to an end early the next morning. The phone woke me up just a few minutes before seven. After taking a moment to curse whoever thought calling me at this hour was a good idea, I managed to pull the receiver off the hook to mumble a half-asleep “Hello?”

  “Hattie, I know it’s early, and I’m sorry,” David said on the other end.

  The sound of David’s voice instantly revived me. “Something else happen overnight?”

  “We picked up Cressida Dreddock at four o’clock this morning,” David told me as I started getting out of bed, batting aside at least three of my cats in the process. “I thought you might want to sit in on the interrogation, see if there’s some angle we might be missing.”

  “Sure,” I said with an eagerness that surprised me. “Let me just get on some clothes and get with Millie, and I’ll be right over.”

  “No rush,” David assured me. “Cressida’s not going anywhere for a while.”

  As I hung up, Onyx jumped back onto the bed with an expectant look.

  “You know I’ve got to make that up, right?” I asked in annoyance.

  “Of course,” Onyx said in his usual unperturbed fashion. “However, I wanted to get your attention.”

  “Okay, you’ve got it. What?”

  “I would very much like to join you for Cressida Dreddock’s questioning. I may be able to help her reveal certain facts that she might otherwise withhold.”

  I pressed my tongue between my lips as I thought it over. Onyx was more than just an unlicensed therapist to me. He had an ability to tease out truth from people who were trying to keep it in. He would be the envy of any police officer investigating a suspect. People tended to tell their deepest, darkest secrets whenever he stayed in a room with said person for long enough.

  “Be by the back door when it’s time to go,” I said.

  Onyx gave a little nod and then jumped off the bed again. As I was making it, Fraidy asked from under the bed, “You sure that’s a smart idea? This woman is crazy.”

  “Beyond any doubt,” Onyx acknowledged. “But the question remains if she is also a murderer, dear brother.”

  “And you think the smartest way to find that out is to ask her to her face?!”

  I shook my head as I finished tucking in the bed sheets. “Are you actually going to come out from under there, Fraidy, or have you decided to spend the rest of eternity hiding in cashmere and lambswool?”

  “I don’t want to be the next dead body. And, I was only borrowing the sweaters,” he added sheepishly.

  “But, it’s only humans getting killed around here,” Onyx directed to his under-the-bed sibling. “Plus, it’s not as though we can die.”

  “Why take the chance?”

  Onyx sighed and shook his head in dismay. “At least come out for breakfast. Safety in numbers, right?”

  “I…I guess,” Fraidy said while I went through my closet for something to wear.

  My big coward of a cat was indeed around when I gave everyone their morning meal. But he was right back under the bed long before I went downstairs.

  Looking at Cressida Dreddock through the interrogation room glass wasn’t easy. As you’d guess from being a twin, she had a spitting image resemblance to Nebula in a lot of respects: her lips, nose shape, overall build and bone structure. Her hair was the same blue-black shade of Mother Night hair dye. But, it was the same body I’d found in the Gorthland Spires with two or three decades added onto it. There were more liver spots and wrinkles on her skin, inadequately covered up by liberal applications of makeup. Her hair was thin to the point where I thought I could see her shockingly white scalp in a few places. Then there was the look in her eyes; milky confusion, and sparkling fear. Neither emotion had ever been on Nebula’s face in her entire life that I had ever noticed.

  “Where did you find her?” I asked, turning to David.

  “The Fingernail Moon, of all places,” David answered. “She ran straight in through the front door, begging Horace Mangler for forgiveness for all her wrongs.”

  I made a face. “She thought he was a priest?”

  “Who knows what’s going on in that damaged head of hers?” David said with resignation. “Doctors at Midnight Hill tell me that she’s prone to fugue states that tend to alternate between persecution scenarios and redemption narratives. Sometimes she even performs a bit of Sunny or Gloomy Magic to help her through whatever delusion she's suffering from.”

  “Has she ever—“

  “No, she’s never killed anybody,” David said, anticipating the question. “She’s too wrapped up in her own demons to ever do real harm to anyone but herself. But she did have something on her when we came to collect her: the missing scroll from Nebula’s.”

  “You’re sure?” I asked.

  David glowered at me through his glasses. “The writing is an exact match to that of the article in Portia Fearwyn’s scrapbook. The carbon dating Maude performed on this puts it about the right antiquity. So, yes, this is the missing scroll, Hattie.” He looked tired. I had a sudden urge to reach out and kiss him.

  “That still doesn’t mean she killed her sister.” I offered, respectfully.

  David then looked really annoyed. “Are you a consultant on this case or her lawyer?”

  “I’m someone who wants to know the truth of what happened,” I snapped back. “Rushing to judgment is a very bad way to get there.”

  David sighed as he turned away from me. Looking down at Onyx, he said, “I’m not comfortable having one of your cats along for this interrogation. Even if it is the head honcho.” The chief couldn’t resist a little rub of Onyx’s nos
e as he commented.

  “While I can understand your concerns, CPI Trew,” Onyx said. “I can also assure you that I am here for purposes of finding the truth just as much as Hattie is.”

  “And he’s good at getting it,” I added. “C’mon, David, we’re not getting any answers talking amongst ourselves.”

  David nodded but still looked wary. “Something else. Cressida has a very shaky grasp on reality. I told her three times in the last hour that her sister was dead. Each time, she went into a hysterical screaming fit and put her hands over her ears. She's in a definite state of denial, right now.”

  “Shouldn’t she at least have one of her doctors present?” Onyx asked.

  “They tell me they’re going to collect her, but we don’t know when. They figure as long as we have her in custody, there’s no rush.”

  “And, that’s why you told me not to hurry,” I deduced, feeling a little incensed on Cressida’s behalf. Sure, she wasn’t a danger to the community at large anymore. But, that didn’t mean she didn’t need some TLC ASAP.

  “Let’s just get this over with,” David said, adjusting his glasses in a way that told me he wanted to get this business concluded.

  Cressida’s eyes lit up as she spotted me stepping into the room. A wide smile that I found unnerving in its intensity spread across her face as she said, “Chimera, it’s so good to…”

  Then her smile turned to a frown as she cocked her head to the side. I could feel David tense up behind me.

  “You’re not…Chimera Opal, are you?” she asked.

  “No, I’m her granddaughter, Hattie Jenkins,” I said, instinctively sticking out my hand for her to shake. I saw David’s eyes go wide in the reflection cast by the one-way glass.

  “Oh, it’s so good to meet you, dear,” Cressida said as she enthusiastically pumped my hand with both of hers. “Chimera was always so kind to me and Sister Nebula when we were growing up.”

  Thankfully, she ended the handshake at the end of the sentence. My arm felt like it’d nearly been pulled out of its socket from her efforts. I wondered briefly if her meds somehow gave the side effect of superhuman strength.