Creative Matchmaker (The Inscrutable Paris Beaufont Book 6)

by Sarah Noffke

  Lee turned and grabbed a bottle of cognac. “I have this. Will that work?’

  King Rudolf’s eyes lit up with delight. “Perfect! That’s exactly what I was hoping for.”

  “I thought you said that Tiffer liked pastries,” Paris reminded him.

  “She does,” the fae answered. “I like Hennessy. It helps me to think better.”

  “Oh, is that what’s been missing before,” Paris muttered dryly.

  “We’re going to face the ultimate test, and I need to be as sharp as an elfin-made sword.” Rudolf grabbed the bottle from Lee, looking at it fondly.

  “You might have to settle for Ru being as sharp as a soccer ball,” Lee said over her shoulder to Paris. “That should still get you there.”

  “You mean for this game, we have to win to find Tiffer?” Paris asked King Rudolf.

  “Yes, yes,” he answered, sweeping his hand at the pastry counter. “We’ll take one of everything.”

  “No, then I’ll have to remake things, and that’s work,” Lee replied.

  “Oh, fine then.” Rudolf glanced at the rows. “Well, we’ll take two dozen eclairs.”

  “I don’t have any of those,” Lee stated.

  “They’re right there.” Paris pointed at a tray of eclairs.

  “Again, short people really do destroy my cheerful nature,” Lee muttered. “I have plans of sitting in my underwear and eating those eclairs later, so they aren’t for sale.”

  “Then why display them for sale?” Paris questioned.

  Lee glanced up at the ceiling. “Gods above, if you’re trying to get me to kill this halfling shorty, then deliver the instrument to do it with.”

  “You can’t kill Paris,” Rudolf said, sounding offended. “She’s Liv’s child.”

  “Everyone is someone’s child,” Lee retorted.

  “She’s my niece.”

  “Technically, she’s not,” Lee stated, picking up a butcher knife that was sitting right beside her arm. Paris hadn’t noticed until right then. The assassin baker smiled with sudden joy.

  “She’s a halfling,” Rudolf said in a mad rush as Lee brandished the knife, giving Paris a sinister stare.

  “That sounds like an anomaly,” Lee replied. “Probably should keep that mistake out of the gene pool.”

  “She has demon blood,” Rudolf said, taking a step in front of Paris protectively.

  Lee gave him an impatient look. “Are you trying to make a case for me to kill her? You realize that demons are bad, right?”

  “Can we grab a scone and get out of here?” Paris didn’t at all feel threatened. “I have a slew of fairies to save so we can restore love. Not to mention a madman I need to apprehend who’s stuck in the twentieth century and trying to destroy fairy godmothers.”

  Lee gave Paris a measured glare for a moment. Then she grabbed a paper bag, stuck a blueberry scone in it, and handed it across the counter to her. “I’ll let you live this once. I can’t stand people who can’t live in the present century. Go take down that villain and make me proud.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Since the Crying Cat Bakery was one of the few places on Roya Lane where portal creation was allowed, it was the perfect location in the end to start the adventure—even if Paris had to endure insults from Lee. She figured that went with the territory.

  King Rudolf and Paris stepped through the shimmering portal to a wide dirt trail surrounded by lush green trees. The air was thick with moisture as if it was about to rain at any moment and the smell of the forest was a stark contrast compared to the city odors of Roya Lane.

  Ahead on the trail was an archway created by a bridge. Directly under it was a small platform. Paris looked around, wondering which way was the train station. It was so quiet in the forest that it felt like they were miles from civilization.

  “Where are we?” Paris asked.

  “In nature,” Rudolf answered, quite seriously. “Don’t touch anything.”

  “Why, are there poisonous plants here?”

  “No, I don’t think so. They’re so nature-y. It’s impossible to regulate the temperature in places like this. Without a moment’s notice, water will fall from the sky.”

  “Do you mean rain?” Paris wondered if she should have brought something to drink too. Maybe King Rudolf would share his cognac with her.

  “Yeah, I guess you can call it that,” he replied. “Mother Nature really needs to fix things here, if you ask me.”

  “Again, where are we?” Paris asked.

  “Scotland,” he replied. “If the locals talk to you, nod and smile. I’m convinced they don’t know what they’re saying half the time, so how are we expected to.”

  “I don’t think we’ll run into anyone here.” Paris looked around, only hearing the sounds of birds in the trees and the whoosh of wind.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Rudolf stated. “Someone else might be catching the afternoon train.”

  “Where do we catch this train?” Paris asked.

  He pointed at the seemingly abandoned platform under the archway. “Right there. And we’re right on time. The train might be here soon.”

  Paris glanced down. “There’s no train track. And what do you mean, might?”

  “The Mystery Train shows when it wants,” King Rudolf answered. “We better get to the platform. I heard a bird of prey.”

  “Are they dangerous to us?” Paris wondered if a giant falcon was about to swoop down from the sky.

  “No, they signal the Mystery Train arriving.” He strode for the platform.

  When they’d arrived, King Rudolf sighed, unscrewing the cap from the Hennessey and taking a long drink. Paris glanced both ways down the dirt trail, wondering if she’d wasted her time with this convoluted mission. Her heart hurt for the fairies at the college and FGA who were suffering from being leeched. All she wanted to do was help them as quickly as possible, but doing that hadn’t been straightforward. Now she worried that King Rudolf was leading her astray.

  “Oh, good, the train will be here in a few seconds.” King Rudolf put the cap back on the cognac.

  A large buzzard swooped down from the side of the bridge and flew through the archway, gliding down low to the trail and flying in the opposite direction. It was quite the mesmerizing sight, but Paris had no idea how that signaled the train.

  She glanced back and forth, not seeing signs of this Mystery Train in either direction, which she could see for quite a ways. “Are you sure? I don’t hear or see a train.”

  King Rudolf nodded. “Yeah, you wouldn’t.”

  “Right.” Paris drew out the word, thinking that either she was losing her mind, or more likely, the fae had.

  However, a moment later, to her complete astonishment, a train appeared right in front of them out of nowhere. It was a real train—or appeared to be anyway. Steam issued up from the front of the locomotive. The brakes squeaked as though the train had stopped instead of appearing.

  A door to the main cabin opened, inviting them in. King Rudolf held out his arm in a presenting fashion, smiling wide. “All aboard. It’s time to take the Mystery Train. Then the games will begin.”

  Paris gulped, hesitancy in her every move as she climbed onto the train, wondering what this game would be and hoping it didn’t get her killed—or make her kill King Rudolf.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  When Paris entered the first cab of the train, the conductor wearing a boxy hat and a uniform greeted her. His black mustache rose when he smiled, transforming his face, making him instantly look younger.

  “Welcome aboard the Mystery Train, Paris Beaufont, and King Rudolf Sweetwater.” The man bowed.

  “You know my name?” Paris pointed at herself.

  “Well, of course,” the train conductor stated. “I also know that you don’t know mine. I’m Peter Peterson.”

  “Nice to meet you.” Paris thought that was a strange name for someone. His parents must have thought it was funny. She looked around at the elegant train cab. It looked
like they entered a time warp and were on a train going across the United States in the 1920s.

  “Well, since everyone is aboard now, we’ll get going,” Peter stated. “I’ll go and let our locomotive operator know. Please take your seat. The dining car will be open as soon as we’re at full speed.”

  King Rudolf took a swig from his bottle, indicating a cozy booth. “Good, because I’ll be dry in a bit.”

  Paris sat on one side of the leather booth beside a large window that showed the platform where they’d boarded. Rudolf took the seat opposite her. “So what’s this game we’re supposed to play and win to find Tiffer?”

  King Rudolf took another long drink as the train pulled away. Leaning forward, Paris looked out the window, wondering what the scenery would show outside the train.

  “It’s hard to explain,” the fae answered. “All I can tell you is to pay attention to everything.”

  Paris watched as the scenery quickly sped by them, showing a blur of green. It was forest and more forest as if they were cruising through the Scottish hillsides, although she figured that magic would be involved and they’d be going somewhere else.

  “Okay, I’ll pay attention.” She looked out the window.

  “Not out there.” Rudolf stretched to a standing position. “What happens outside the train is irrelevant. You need to pay attention to what’s happening inside the train.”

  Paris blinked at him, searching the empty train car. “What do you mean?”

  He started for the door on the opposite side, waving at her. “Come on. Papa needs ice for the rest of his Hennessey. Let’s go meet some folks.”

  “You mean there are other passengers on this train?” Paris stood and followed him to the door. “Are you sure?”

  He nodded confidently. “I’m certain of it. They’re part of the game.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  To Paris’ surprise, the dining car was buzzing with people. King Rudolf was correct, and there were other people aboard the Mystery Train.

  Again, Paris felt that she’d stepped backward in time and was in the 1920s. A very distinguished woman was wearing an elegant silk blue gown with a feather boa collar and fringe on the cuffs. She pulled a long cigarette in a white holder from her mouth at the sight of King Rudolf and Paris and blinked at them as if surprised to see them too.

  Gliding her hand over her black curls, the woman extended a hand to King Rudolf as he approached her table, many large rings adorning her fingers. “Well, who do I have the pleasure of making an acquaintance with?” she asked in a dignified voice.

  The fae took her hand and kissed the back of it, leaning down low. “I’m none other than King Rudolf Sweetwater, and this is my traveling companion, Miss Paris Beaufont.”

  “A pleasure.” The woman puffed on her long cigarette. “I’m Countess Jessabelle Fairweather. I’d ask you to join me, but I already have an engagement, which should be starting soon now that we’re off.”

  “No worries. We have a table.” Rudolf indicated a neighboring table that said, “Reserved for King Rudolf Sweetwater and Paris Beaufont.”

  “I see you do,” the countess said with a pinched smile.

  Without another word, King Rudolf sat at the table on the other side of the train car, against the window. Green forest still streaked by outside. Paris glanced around, noticing a waitress on the other end of the car, speaking to a distinguished man in a gray business suit with his black hair slicked back. They appeared to be having a heated conversation, although Paris couldn’t hear what they were saying. It was mostly their body language that suggested they were having a disagreement.

  Paris didn’t hide her interest in the two, remembering what King Rudolf had said about paying attention to what happened inside the train versus outside it. However, a moment later, the gentleman spun and marched to the countess’ table.

  As though he might get lost in the narrow car, Countess Jessabelle Fairweather waved in his direction. “Over here, Thomas!”

  He pursed his lips and nodded.

  Leaning in Paris and Rudolf’s direction, the countess said, “That’s Thomas Cheetah. He’s who I have a meeting with.”

  “I figured as much.” Rudolf held up his bottle to the waitress on the far side of the car. “Can I get some ice, please?”

  Catching sight of him, the waitress in a black dress and white apron nodded and disappeared into the next car.

  Thomas Cheetah slid into the seat opposite of the countess, sighing slightly.

  “What are you drinking, Tom?” She puffed on her cigarette. “I’m buying.”

  “Oh, Jessabelle, do you really have to play games?” He sounded tired.

  “Can’t I buy my friend a drink without you thinking I’m up to something?” she asked coyly.

  “Are you up to something?” he fired back.

  She batted her eyelashes at him in a flirtatious manner. “Oh, Tom, you know that painting will look better in my penthouse apartment. Admit it.”

  He sighed again, looking out the window. “I knew it. If you wanted the painting, you should have outbid me. That’s how art auctions work.”

  Countess Fairweather blew out a ring of smoke. “You drove up that price past my comfort zone, and you know it.”

  “Well, may the richer buyer win,” Thomas stated smugly. “That’s how a free market works.”

  The waitress returned, carrying two crystal glasses with ice, laying them down in front of Paris and Rudolf, but her attention was squarely on the couple beside them.

  “Brittany, my friend and I would like a bottle of your finest cabernet sauvignon,” the countess said to the waitress.

  “I’ll take a whiskey neat,” Thomas corrected.

  “Oh, do you have to be so difficult?” the countess asked him, irritation heavy on her face.

  “Yes,” he stated at once.

  “Fine, a dry martini for me,” Jessabelle said to the waitress.

  Brittany turned at once, marching back in the opposite direction, not taking a drink order from Paris or Rudolf.

  “Interesting,” the fae said to Paris, also watching the exchange and not hiding his eavesdropping.

  “What are we supposed to be doing here?” Paris whispered.

  He poured the rest of the bottle into the two glasses and slid one over to her. “Watching.”

  Paris nodded minutely, taking a sip of the Hennessey.

  The countess and Thomas Cheetah appeared to be locked in a staring contest when the waitress returned with their drinks. She slid them onto the table in front of the couple and swung around to face Paris and Rudolf.

  “Can I get you two anything else?” she asked them.

  “Your name, for starters,” King Rudolf stated, draining his drink.

  “Brittany Jenkins,” she stated, putting her hand on her hip.

  “I’ll take a bottle of cognac,” he stated, looking at Paris. “And you?”

  She shook her head. “I’m good. Thanks.”

  “Fine,” Brittany said, as if not ordering something was offensive to her. She strode back the way she’d come, nearly running into a man wearing a pinstriped suit and a troubled expression. He had gray hair and a trimmed beard and appeared to be drunk, his glass of whiskey sloshing around as he strode in their direction. It also could have been the movement of the train though, Paris reasoned.

  “Hey, good day, chap,” the man boomed, setting his glass of whiskey down on the table beside Thomas and Jessabelle before taking a seat next to them. “I thought I’d find you two here, fighting as usual.”

  “We’re not fighting,” Jessabelle fired back, crossing her arms.

  “Of course we are,” Thomas argued. “It’s what we do best.”

  “I swear, you’d think you two were married, the way you act,” the man stated.

  “You know I’d never marry,” Thomas stated. “A man like me doesn’t tie himself to a train track like that.”

  An audible gasp fell from Brittany’s mouth as she dropped a tray o
n the other side of the train car. Paris looked up, watching as the waitress stooped and picked up the glasses she’d broken.

  “It’s a bumpy ride today, isn’t it, Brit?” the man asked.

  She didn’t look up but instead rushed out of the car at once, probably embarrassed by her accident.

  Rudolf leaned across the aisle dividing them from the other table and held out a hand. “Hello, I’m King Rudolf Sweetwater. And you’d be?” he asked the gentleman.

  He offered him a hand, looking as if he might fall out of the seat. “Oh, nice to meet a king. I’m Ronald Whittaker. Yes, I mean, the Ronald Whittaker.”

  The countess sighed and put out her cigarette. “Oh, do you always have to say that when you introduce yourself?”

  Ronald waved, fanning away the smoke, nearly knocking over his drink. “Do you always have to blow that smoke on me like that?”

  “Which one of these is mine?” Thomas indicated the two side-by-side whiskey glasses.

  “How am I supposed to know?” Ronald asked. “Have them both. I’m going to get a nap. Then we’ll review those financials, Thomas, old chap.”

  He stood at once and lumbered in the opposite direction, not paying attention to anything but his path.

  The countess and Thomas went back to staring at each other, hostility obvious in their gazes. They didn’t look up when Peter Peterson entered from the other side of the train car, smiling with delight.

  He halted beside the table and withdrew a cigar from his breast pocket. “Mr. Cheetah, I picked up something recently, thinking of you.”

  “Is that a Cuban cigar?” Thomas asked, an eager expression on his face.

  “Indeed it is,” Peter stated. “I know how much you enjoy a fine cigar and thought it might make your voyage more enjoyable.”

  “Why, thank you.” Thomas took the cigar, running it under his nose, fondly. “That was very kind of you.”

  Brandishing a silver lighter, Peter created a flame, holding it out for Thomas. “Think nothing of it, Mr. Cheetah.”