We took the elevator down to the parking level, got in his car, and drove toward the Krinkle residence.
* * *
When we arrived at Krinkle’s house, there was no answer at the door. According to the calls Bentley made during the drive over from the station, the old woman had been returned to the residence, and the crime scene investigators and agents had all left. They were resources that were best allocated elsewhere, helping follow up on leads about the missing woman.
After waiting a minute with no answer to our knocks or the doorbell, Bentley tried the handle. “It’s locked.”
“Detective, there’s no such thing as a locked door when your partner’s a witch.” I turned the handle from the inside using magic, and opened the door.
Bentley hesitated.
“Don’t tell me you need an invitation,” I said.
He stared at me blankly.
“An invitation,” I repeated slowly, as though he was hard of hearing. “Because of your condition? Is that what you need? Maybe I can do something with a bluffing spell on the house itself.” I pretended to push up my sleeves, although my forearms were bare. My romantic blouse was falling off one shoulder, so I continued the motion, pushing the puffy sleevelet back up to cover the strap of my bra.
“Oh,” Bentley said, his eyes widening as he caught my drift. “The invitation thing is just a myth about us,” he said. “What’s holding me back is our distinct lack of a warrant.”
“But this house is a crime scene,” I said. “You don’t need permission to go in and out of a crime scene, do you?”
“It’s a private residence,” he said. “The thing about a warrant is—”
He stopped talking when I grabbed him by the shoulders and forcibly dragged him into the house. “Witches don’t need warrants,” I said.
It was time for us to question Temperance Krinkle and get to the bottom of this business with the weird dollhouses.
Chapter 28
“Mrs. Krinkle?” I called out sweetly. “Are you home? It’s me, Zara Riddle, the nice redhead who you shared the lovely tea and cookies with on Saturday!” Whether you remember me or not, you’re going to remember me after we get finished questioning you. At least until such time as the DWM wipes your memory back to the factory default settings.
I repeated my sweet-voiced inquiry. “Mrs. Krinkle? Temperance?”
The only answer was a creak coming from upstairs, and then the low murmur of a man’s voice.
“She’s not alone,” Bentley said softly.
“An accomplice?”
“Maybe. Speaking of which, do you happen to know where that genie friend of yours is right now?”
“Archer Caine? He’s not my friend, and no, I don’t know where he is.”
“If he’s working with Krinkle on whatever this is, I’m going to finish what I started on your birthday.”
I stifled a giggle. The situation was serious, but Bentley was so cute when he threatened to eat people.
The floor upstairs creaked again, and there was more murmuring.
“It’s not the genie,” Bentley reported, sounding disappointed. “And yes. My hearing is that good.”
“Who is it?”
“I don’t know yet, but he sounds familiar, like someone I’ve met recently. Don’t you have some spells to cast?”
We both looked down at my hands. I held them up, showing off the blue plasma pooling in my palms. Fireballs were at the ready. More lightning tingled through my body.
Bentley said, “Do you have anything more subtle than blue fireballs?”
“Hang on. I’ll cast my threat-detection spell,” I said. “It doesn’t do much,” I warned him as I cast the spell. “It’s the magical equivalent of walking into a spooky house and calling out hello, but—” I was stopped by the dazzling light show in front of me.
To my surprise, the spell had worked. And I mean really worked. The whole inside of the residence was lit up like a Christmas tree—a Christmas tree with enough lights on it to cause a power outage in the neighborhood.
I was so taken aback by the display of glowing, gleaming, and pulsating walls, I nearly jumped into Bentley’s arms. I did stumble backward and bump into his tall, solid body.
“What is it?” His tone was low, his lips next to my ear. His breath was hot. Surprisingly hot. Another type of lightning rushed through my body.
I made a nonverbal, squeaky sound.
He put one hand on my shoulder to steady me. My blouse had a wide neck, so half of his hand fell on the exposed skin of my shoulder. His hand was warm. So much for his kind being cold-blooded.
“Talk to me,” he urged, his breath still hot on my ear. “You jumped back like you saw a ghost. I thought you were going to jump right into my arms.”
“You wish,” I snorted, then I cast a sound bubble spell around us, in case Krinkle was listening. “No ghost,” I reported. “But that threat-detection spell actually worked. You can’t see it, but I can. Everything in this house is lit up with danger.”
“What kind of danger?”
He glowed red in front of me. Monster detected.
“I don’t know exactly,” I said. “It’s only a general threat-detection spell. Stuff that’s involved in magic glows. It doesn’t label itself, except by color, sort of, but even that’s open to interpretation.” I looked around. “Everything’s glowing like crazy, but the color intensifies the higher up I look. The threat’s above us.”
“The attic,” he said grimly. “Where she worked on the models.”
“It’s always the attic,” I agreed.
“Except when it’s the basement.”
“But it’s the attic this time. Let’s go.”
He hesitated. “We should wait for backup.”
I turned to look into his eyes. They were so attractive, that lovely shade of gray that looked silver. They looked especially bright at that moment, with his skin glowing red from the spell and his eyes reflecting the blue and green glow around us. I could stare into those eyes all day and all night. But we had a case to solve. A woman and a hellhound to find.
I’d lost track of what we’d been talking about. “You were saying?”
“We should wait for backup,” he repeated.
“Do you want to wait for backup?”
He stared back at me, silver eyes unwavering. “I don’t like waiting. I don’t want to wait.”
My head swam. The lurid glow of danger was all around us, but I couldn’t break away from his gaze.
“I don’t like waiting, either,” I said.
He cleared his throat. “Nobody does, but it is WPD protocol to wait for appropriate backup when a threat, such as a weapon, has been detected.”
“Detective, aren’t we just a wee bit beyond WPD protocol? We did witch-and-enter the premises without a warrant. Am I supposed to stand here like a ding-dong, waiting for the regular cops to show up so I can get charged with witching and entering?”
He quirked one eyebrow. “What would you suggest we do?”
“Let’s go up to that attic right now, just the two of us, and let me witch things up. I’ll witch things up real good.” I took a step back and gave him a hand gesture of generosity. “And you can do whatever it is you do.”
“Vamp things up?”
I snapped my fingers and pointed at him. “Exactly. Do one of those enthrallment things. You can boost one of my spells for me. Or move around really quick. That’s fun.”
His eyebrows twitched together. I knew the look of a man reacting to his power being insulted, and I’d just done it.
“I have powers beyond that,” he said.
I rubbed my neck self-consciously. “If you mean biting, then yes, I figured as much. When we question Krinkle, you can bite it out of her.”
He wrinkled his nose.
I swatted him on the chest. “Why the face? Is old-lady neck not good enough for you?”
“Zara, I’ve never...” He trailed off and blinked repeatedly. “I’m new
at this. I haven’t even been this way through a full cycle of the moon.”
“Come on. If she tastes that bad, I’ll let you wash the old-lady neck out of your mouth with some of my good stuff.”
His jaw actually dropped.
I swatted his chest a second time. “Kidding. Wow. You should see your face.”
He pulled his jaw up and clenched it. “I’d rather take my chances with whatever’s in the attic than continue this conversation.”
“Suit yourself,” I said, then waved for him to proceed with the plan.
He led the way up the stairs. We checked the second floor, finding only empty bedrooms. Then we proceeded up to the top floor. It was our third time visiting the attic. Third time’s the charm, I thought.
In the attic, the strings of overhead lights were lit, illuminating the cramped space about as well as the last time we’d been there, the day before. The glare from my threat-detection spell was fading. The spell didn’t last forever, but it didn’t need to. I’d seen what I needed to see. We were walking right into what could very well be a trap.
Two other people were in the attic: Temperance Krinkle, looking as she had the last time we’d seen her, dressed demurely in pastel slacks and a lightweight sweater, and Louis Williams, dressed in black once more. What were the so-called psychic and the father of the kidnap victim up to?
Louis Williams had something in one hand. To my eyes, it was glowing brighter than everything else. Even though the detection spell was fading, I had no doubt the object in this hand was the source of the threat.
The second brightest object in the attic was the old iron chair. The big model of the town had been pushed all the way to the side of the attic, and the iron chair was sitting in the center of the space.
Beside me, there was a loud clatter. Bentley had kicked something by accident. The same toolbox he’d tripped over the day before. He’d kicked it hard enough to cause it to tumble outside of my sound-bubble spell. The toolbox tipped on its side, spewing a variety of tools: hammers, screwdrivers, wrenches, and a bolt cutter with long handles. Everything had made a loud clatter on the bare wood floor.
I quickly assessed the tools for bludgeoning capacity. Any one of them would make an excellent weapon when wielded by a witch. The bolt cutters in particular caught my eye. They were glowing faintly from my threat-detection spell.
I looked over at Bentley and noticed he was staring at the bolt cutters as well. Great minds think alike.
We both looked up at the suspects.
Krinkle and Williams were standing next to the iron chair, facing each other. They had been arguing in whispers, but once Bentley gave us away with his clumsiness, both had noticed they had company in the attic. They stopped talking and turned to stare at us.
I canceled our sound bubble.
Bentley didn’t speak, so I took the lead.
“Mrs. Krinkle, we knocked on the front door,” I said, still keeping my voice sweet. “I guess you couldn’t hear the knocking all the way up here.”
“Hello, dear,” Krinkle said in her charming English accent.
Williams did a double-take as he looked at me. “Zoey? Wait.” He pointed a finger at me. “You were here on Saturday, weren’t you? You’re not Zoey, but you look just like her.” He explained to Krinkle, “She looks just like the new girl we hired at the museum. The little redhead who was watching me like a hawk all day.” He balled his hand into a fist around the item he held. “I barely made it out of there with this amulet you wanted.”
Bentley spoke next, in a casual, conversational tone. “Amulet? What’s this about an amulet?” He walked toward the pair at a slow, non-threatening speed. He stopped a few paces back from the duo.
“It’s nothing,” Williams said. He jerked his hand behind his back, hiding the object.
“Then let me see it,” Bentley said in a very reasonable tone.
“Don’t give it to the cop,” Krinkle said. There was a grit to her English accent, making it less charming. “It’s none of his business. He had his chance to help your daughter, but now it’s up to us, Louis.”
The man in black puffed up his chest. “This is a private matter,” he said to the detective. “And you don’t have permission to be here.”
Bentley turned to give me a look. I took it as permission to go ahead with as much magic as I wanted.
As much as I wanted to blast lightning balls first and ask questions later, I started with something simple. I twirled the Witch Tongue within my mouth, and cast a perfect rendition of the bluffing spell.
“You want to tell us what the amulet is for,” I said to Williams. “We’re all friends here. We’re here to help.”
Williams’ head dropped forward, as though he was falling asleep, then jerked upright. His expression was peaceful. “You’re friends,” he said smoothly. “You’re here to help.”
Krinkle gave him a stunned look, and then narrowed her wrinkly eyes at me. She wasn’t under the bluffing spell. What had I done wrong? My casting syntax had been perfect. Did she have powers that protected her?
“That’s right,” Bentley said to Williams, smoothly and reasonably. “We’re here to help. Why don’t you explain the plan to me, so my partner and I can assist? We all want to get your daughter back safely.”
Williams smiled blankly and began talking. “My friend Temperance is going to use this ancient amulet to transport herself to where my daughter is being held captive.” He brought out the hand from behind his back and opened his fist, showing us the object. It was, as he’d stated, an amulet. It had an enormous, gleaming gemstone that glinted under the lights.
“That’s quite the plan,” Bentley said.
Williams continued. “And if, for some reason, she can’t free Veronica on her own, she’ll just come back here and give us the location.” He swayed from side to side, thoroughly under my spell. “I’m very lucky my friend Temperance comes from a long line of powerful magicians. She’s the only one who can get my daughter back to her family.”
“Magicians?” Bentley looked at me. “She says she’s a magician,” he said.
“That’s not even a thing,” I said. “Mrs. Krinkle, magicians do tricks for entertainment. They don’t do magic.”
“That’s what they want you to think,” Krinkle said. “But I’ve seen things with my own eyes. Things that aren’t tricks. Real magic. My cousin has been helping me discover our family powers.”
I looked from her to Louis. “Mr. Williams is your cousin?”
She let out a polite laugh. “Of course not. I mean my cousin, Cole Dexter. He’s the one I’ve been corresponding with on my laptop.”
“Cole Dexter,” I said. The name did not sit well on my lips. “Cole Dexter,” I repeated. “Cole Dexter.” The third time I said the name, I heard it change.
Codex.
Cole Dexter was connected to Codex. Or he was Codex. Or someone wanted me to think he was. How deep did this thing go? How many layers to this onion of weirdness?
“Mrs. Krinkle, have you met this cousin in real life?”
She glanced at Williams, who shrugged, then she looked at me again. “That’s none of your business.” There was a tremble of uncertainty to her voice.
“You haven’t met him,” I said. “Mrs. Krinkle, I’m sorry to have to break this to you, but your cousin isn’t real. He’s made up. You’re being used.” I pointed to the amulet in Williams’ hand. “How much is that amulet worth?”
“Over a million dollars,” Williams said.
“Oh, Louis. Stop talking,” Krinkle said to Williams. To me, she said, “You’re being so awful, you awful, terrible woman.”
I took it in stride. I’d been called worse. “That doesn’t change the fact you’re being catfished. You do know what that means, don’t you?”
She didn’t answer.
Bentley explained, “Catfishing is when someone uses a fake identity on the internet to trick someone.”
Krinkle lifted her downy, white-haired chin and
said, “My dear cousin is not one of those catfish people. He hasn’t asked me for a single cent. All he wants is for me to embrace my powers as a magician, so we can travel the world together.” She got a wistful look. “We’re going to start with Egypt.”
Bentley crossed his arms and said to Krinkle, “You think you’re some kind of magician? Prove it.”
“Yeah,” I chimed in. “Prove it. If you’re a magician, with real powers, I’d like to see that. I’d pay good money to see that!”
Krinkle shook her head slowly. “You won’t be laughing after you see what I can do.”
“Prove it,” Bentley said again, this time adding a mocking laugh that almost made me zap him with a spell, and the mocking wasn’t even directed at me.
Chapter 29
“I will prove it,” Temperance said, and she grabbed the necklace from her friend’s hand. She slipped the chain over her head, centered the amulet on her chest, and climbed into the iron chair. “I’ll show everyone,” she said.
As she turned her head to adjust her seat in the chair, I caught sight of her ears, and her hearing aids. Hearing aids! That explained why she’d been immune to my bluffing spell. The electronic devices must have altered the sound waves of my spell.
Bentley held up a hand for her to wait. “Let me get things straight,” he said. “You’re a magician, and you’re going to get back Mr. Williams’ daughter by teleporting to wherever she is, using that amulet?”
The white-haired woman, who looked very small on the big iron chair, nodded. “That’s right,” she said. “You must be a believer, Detective Bentley. A nonbeliever would never catch on so quickly.” She looked pointedly at Williams. “My friend Louis was a nonbeliever, until now.”
Her friend gave us a dazed smile. “I’m a believer now. That’s why I borrowed the amulet and took it off the museum premises. I’m a believer, and I trust my friend Temperance. I should have believed her the first time she told me about her dreams.” His expression grew sad. “Poor Veronica. I shouldn’t have ignored Temperance’s warnings.”
Bentley rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he paced the attic. It was a nice touch. A very Sherlock Holmes sort of move. If I’d been there on my own, I probably would have started blasting blue fireballs by now. That had become my modus operandi of late. Fireballs first, questions later.
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