by Emery Belle
“What is that?” I asked as she licked a glob of it from her thumb.
“Pickleberry spread,” she said, offering me a fry. “Try it, it’s delicious.”
“No thanks,” I said, looking around in vain for a bottle of ketchup. There was still so much I needed to learn about this new world I’d been plopped into, even something as simple as what condiments to use. “And anyway, I didn’t exactly confront Fiona. I just asked her a few questions. But she said she was visiting her sister on Star Island on the day of Cassandra’s murder, so I expect that’ll be a dead end.”
“Star Island?” Garnet frowned at me, a fry halfway to her mouth. “There’s no way Fiona Thane was visiting Star Island two weeks ago. The cleanup wasn’t finished yet.”
I leaned forward in my seat. “What cleanup?”
“From the brownie revolt.” Garnet shook her head. “It’s been kept pretty hush-hush; I only know about it because my cousin Chuck works for the IAMB Small Creature Division. The brownies—”
She stopped short at my puzzled expression. “Sorry, I keep forgetting you’re new here. Brownies are household hobgoblins who are often employed by the rich and famous to take care of things like cooking and cleaning. Star Island is the wealthiest island in our cluster, so pretty much every family there has one.”
She took an enormous bite of her egg salad sandwich, then continued, “But if there’s one thing you should know about brownies, it’s that they need to feel appreciated. Apparently, one of the island’s inhabitants—Chuck didn’t say who—suggested that her brownie was sweeping dust under her area rug, and all hell broke loose. One thing led to another, and pretty soon the brownies had banded together and trashed the entire island. Things got pretty ugly, and the IAMB had to send in hostage negotiators. Anyway,” she added with a sigh, “long story short, no one was allowed to visit the island at that time, and anyone who tried was told that the docks were being repaired and the ferries couldn’t land.”
“Surely Fiona’s sister would have told her about all of that,” I said, picking at a wilted piece of lettuce on my turkey sandwich. “Or she would have heard about it some other way.”
“I doubt it.” Garnet folded her hands under her chin, her eyes bright. “The IAMB didn’t want the brownies on the neighboring islands to hear about the revolt in case they got any ideas, so the Star Islanders were sworn to secrecy or else they’d have to pay a hefty fine. And knowing that crowd, there was no way they were going to give up any of their gold that easily. They’re a greedy bunch.”
I sat back and jiggled one leg over the other, digesting this new information. If Fiona wasn’t visiting her sister on the night of Cassandra’s murder, then where was she? And if she had nothing to hide, why would she lie to cover her tracks?
“But still, I have a hard time imagining Fiona getting her hands dirty with a murder,” Garnet added, squirting more pickleberry spread onto her fries, her brows furrowed in concentration. “She’s too image-obsessed to risk ruining her reputation. Do you have any other suspects?”
I gave her a quick rundown of what Sebastian had told me about Lazar’s obsession with Cassandra as Garnet listened, mouth agape. “That’s the scariest thing I ever heard,” she said in a hushed voice. “I can’t imagine how Cassandra must have felt when she found out he was lurking outside her house.” She popped the end of her long auburn ponytail into her mouth and nibbled on it thoughtfully. “Have you questioned him yet?”
“No.” I glanced at my watch. “I was hoping to pay him a visit this afternoon, but Sebastian has to write up the obituaries for that dwarf family that accidentally got trampled by the herd of centaurs and he can’t come along. I’m a little afraid to go alone, to be honest. I don’t know what he’s capable of.”
“I’ll go with you!” Garnet squealed, then visibly deflated when she caught my dubious look. “You’re afraid I’m going to mess up your interview, aren’t you?” She fixed her wide eyes on me, and I began fidgeting under the pressure.
“No…” I said, though inwardly I was nodding my head vigorously. Garnet was enthusiastic, sure, and I’d come to realize she was one of the sweetest people I’d ever known. But she did seem to have a nasty habit of bungling everything she managed to get her hands on.
“Okay,” I relented, against my better judgment, eager to remain on good terms with my roommate and, dare I say, first real friend on the island. I drained the last of my lemonade and folded a few bills beneath the empty glass—when he realized I didn’t have two gold coins to rub together, Percival had given me an advance on my paycheck. “Do you have any idea where I can find him?”
Laughing, Garnet pushed back her chair. “Trust me, that won’t be a problem.”
“Wow,” I said, gazing up at the building-sized blinking neon sign screaming “Lazar’s Laugh Factory,” for all the island to see. I was also pretty sure NASA would be able to pick it up on their radar from space; it was a wonder the FBI hadn’t already made a beeline for the island. “What is this place?”
“It’s a novelty shop,” Garnet said, pushing me toward the front door. “He’s got the usual mechanical zombies and bouncing brooms, but his real business is in the trick potions he makes. I’m pretty sure every teenager on the island has paid him a visit at least once when they’re mad at their parents. I once slipped my dad some sneezing solution when he wouldn’t let me go out on a date with the gorgeous vampire who moved in next door. Worked like a charm. He was so busy sneezing up his dinner that I was able to sneak away for a couple of hours undetected.” She sighed happily and trailed a finger along her neck. “Best night of my life.”
We walked through the shop door, and a shrunken head with a painted clown smile shrieked out, “Wren Winters and Garnet Moon!” before clamping its mouth and eyeing us lasciviously. As we wound our way through the aisles crammed with a hodgepodge of items ranging from faux dragon eggs to a life-size rubber ogre wielding a very real-looking club that he swung over his head as we passed beneath him, I had a hard time keeping my hands to myself.
“Don’t touch that,” Garnet snapped, elbowing me out of the way as I reached for a pair of sparkling emerald earrings. “They’ll probably make your ears shrivel, and sometimes it takes weeks to work out a counterspell to one of Lazar’s tricks.”
“Is that Garnet Moon I hear?” a voice called from the back of the shop, and a few moments later a man appeared at our side with a pop. “Back for more sneezing solution, my dear? I seem to remember you ordering some back when it was all the rage. I might have another bottle or two around here somewhere…”
As the man I assumed was Lazar rooted around on a nearby shelf, I sized him up, surprised by his appearance. From everything I’d heard about him, I assumed he’d be, well, some kind of wackadoodle. But on the outside, at least, he appeared perfectly normal, with a trim figure, wavy salt-and-pepper hair, and a conservative button-down shirt and neatly pressed trousers. I also registered a gold band on his left hand that I assumed was a wedding ring… Had he been married when he’d been trying to sweet-talk Cassandra, and, if so, how had he managed to convince his wife to forgive him?
“I was actually hoping you’d whip up some infatuation tablets for me,” Garnet said, batting her eyelashes at Lazar, who stopped rooting around the shelves and gave her his full attention. I could see his pale gray eyes flicking over her body, lingering too long on her chest, before coming to rest on her face.
“Oh?” he said, practically licking his lips. “Got a special guy in your life, eh?”
“You could say that,” Garnet said, giving him a shy smile. As they continued talking, I snuck away quietly under the pretense of checking out the other items on the shelves, a plan Garnet and I had discussed on our way to the shop. She would keep Lazar distracted so I could have a quick look around and hopefully find something incriminating that tied him to Cassandra’s death.
Their voices grew dimmer as I wound my way through the shop, keeping my eyes on the ground to avoid getting distr
acted by the shelves filled with fascinating items. I stopped just once in front of a glowing crystal orb that I swore was whispering my name, and was just stretching out a tentative finger toward it when a peal of laughter from Garnet broke through my trance and prompted me to keep going.
The store was empty save for a couple of leprechauns snickering over a cauldron of gold coins that I presumed were fake, though as I snuck behind them, undetected, one of them stuck his hand into the pot, lightning-quick, and stuffed a handful of the coins into his pocket. Lazar’s office was in the very back of the store, past a row of rubbery bloodshot eyeballs that swiveled to follow me as I walked past. I snuck one last peek over my shoulder before I pushed open the door and slid inside.
At first glance, the office looked perfectly ordinary: a computer hummed softly on the desk, an empty coffee mug bearing the shop’s logo sat on top of a pile of order forms, and a framed photo of a beaming Lazar, his arm wrapped around a blonde woman and a little girl with his same pale gray eyes, was propped against a potted plant.
Straining to hear any sounds of approaching footsteps, I crouched behind his desk and began rifling through the drawers, looking for anything that might connect him to Cassandra. But other than an ancient mildewed issue of The Islander with a front-page story on Lazar’s store opening, and a bundle of handwritten letters that appeared promising at first but ended up being from his lawyer, nothing stood out.
Disappointed, I stood to leave, but stumbled over an extra pair of shoes on the floor and grabbed the edge of the desk to keep from toppling over. As I did so, the framed photograph fell to the ground, the glass cracking in two. Swearing beneath my breath, I stooped to pick it up, but stopped, my hand hovering over Lazar’s wife, when I caught sight of the edge of another photograph poking out from beneath the first.
I slid it out, my heart hammering as I immediately recognized Cassandra’s face. She was sitting on the sand with another woman, her head thrown back in laughter, her cheeks pink from the sunlight. The picture was taken at an angle, and Cassandra seemed unaware that she was being photographed.
A sick feeling rose in my stomach as I grabbed the framed photo of Lazar’s wife and daughter and set it back against the plant, hoping he wouldn’t notice the damage until after we were long gone. I pocketed the picture of Cassandra, then straightened my hair, took a deep breath, and stepped around the desk.
I only made it about two feet before the potted plant snapped to life without warning, one of its thin branches grabbing me around the wrist with unexpected strength. “Let go of me,” I hissed, batting at the branch, but that only made it shoot out another one that snaked around my waist, rooting me firmly in place. Though the plant didn’t speak, the word intruder floated through the air on the rustle of its leaves.
It was a trap. And I was caught red-handed, with no excuse that seemed plausible.
“I’ll just write up an order form for you, and the tablets will be on your doorstep in three to five days.” Lazar’s voice floated toward me, and I momentarily stopped struggling against the plant’s grip and froze, looking around frantically for a hiding place. There was a closet a few feet away, and though I tried with all my might to reach it, I realized, as the footsteps drew closer, that it was an exercise in futility. I might as well save my strength for when I needed to escape from Lazar’s hands around my throat.
“That won’t be necessary!” Garnet called after him, her voice high-pitched and tense. “Really, I—I think I’ve had a change of heart, and I won’t be needing them after all.” She launched herself in front of the office door, blocking the way, though her eyes bugged out when she saw me trapped in the middle of the room.
“Is everything all right, Garnet?” Lazar asked, and though I couldn’t see him from where I was standing, I could sense that he was hovering just beyond the doorway. If he moved even a few centimeters to the side, he would see me, and all would be lost.
Garnet sank back further against the doorway as the toe of a shiny black shoe entered my line of vision, and I saw Lazar reaching for Garnet’s arm when a shrill whistle cut through the air without warning. A voice I recognized as coming from the shrunken head that had announced our arrival began screaming, “Thief! Thief! Thief!” as a row of bars dropped from the ceiling, blocking the shop’s entrance.
Lazar swore loudly and bolted toward the front of the store while Garnet swung around, her face drained of all color, and launched herself at the plant. It almost succeeded in wrapping itself around her arms before she attacked it with a pair of scissors lying just out of my reach on Lazar’s desk.
The plant instantly recoiled, and as Garnet stood over it, breathing heavily and still aiming the scissors at its branches, it curled in on itself until it looked as innocent and docile as a lamb. Even I wouldn’t have the heart to attack it now, though my wrists bore angry red welts and my waist felt like it had been strapped into a bone-crushing corset.
“Let’s go,” Garnet whispered, dropping the scissors and yanking me toward the office door.
We ran through the aisles until we reached the front of the store, where Lazar was shouting at the two leprechauns, who were caught between a set of bars on either side of the entrance. The shrunken head looked on, rolling its eyes in delight, as Lazar reached through the bars and tore the pockets clean off the leprechauns’ pants. Gold coins clattered to the floor and rolled in every direction, and by the time Lazar threw the leprechauns out of the shop while threatening to set Kellen on them, I had practically forgotten about the photo still tucked in my own pocket.
Until Garnet whispered, “Find anything?” as we were leaving the shop. I waited until we were safely out of sight before slipping out the photo and showing it to her. Two angry red circles appeared on her cheeks as she studied it, and she threw a disgusted look over her shoulder at Lazar’s shop. “What a creep. I wonder when this photo was taken?” She turned it over, and I peered over her shoulder, looking for a date stamp, but the back of the picture was blank.
“It doesn’t really matter all that much when it was taken,” I pointed out, pocketing the photo again and heading back toward the dormitories, Garnet hot on my heels. “What’s important is that Lazar still felt the need to keep it hidden in his office. If he had truly put all of that nasty business with Cassandra and the police report behind him, he never would have had it in the first place. Which means…”
“He might still have a motive for murder,” Garnet finished, wringing her hands. “But how are we supposed to find out what he was doing on the night Cassandra died?”
“By asking.” My voice was steel as I imagined Cassandra’s fear as Lazar bore down on her.
“You must be crazy,” Garnet hissed, grabbing me by the arm and forcing me to stop. She studied my face with worried eyes. “Lazar is clearly unhinged. You can’t go marching up to him and asking if he killed Cassandra, or you’ll be next.”
I shook her off. “I have no intention of asking Lazar,” I said as I continued walking, cutting a wide path around an ogre holding out a dirty bucket to passersby with the words “Hungry, any help appreciated” carved into it.
I stopped and felt around in my pockets for a gold coin, then stepped up to the bucket, wrinkling my nose to avoid breathing in his old-garbage cologne. He grabbed the coin before I could drop it into the bucket and shoved it into his mouth, then chewed it for a moment before spitting it back into my hand, along with about a pound of green saliva.
“What am I supposed to do with that?” he grunted, his filmy eyes narrowed with accusation. He shook the bucket under my nose, and when I hazarded a glance inside, I saw that it was filled with slugs, spiders, and the occasional fingernail. I watched, fascinated, as he plucked a particularly fat slug from the bucket and popped it between his lips, then sucked it down slowly, his eyes never leaving mine.
“Come on,” Garnet groaned, pulling me away from the ogre. “What are you trying to do, make yourself his next meal?”
She steered me down the
street toward our dorm, not stopping until she plopped us down onto a bench in front of the building beside an ugly stone gargoyle I hadn’t noticed before. She slung her bag over the gargoyle’s neck and faced me again, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. “I mean it, Wren. I don’t want you going anywhere near Lazar, or I’m going to give Kellen a call and let him know what you’re up to so he can put a stop to it.”
“I’m not going anywhere near Lazar,” I insisted, taken aback by Garnet’s threat. “Besides, I’m sure he’s noticed that Cassandra’s photo is missing by now, and I’m not stupid enough to go back into that shop while he’s there.”
“Then who are you planning to talk to?” Garnet asked, dropping her arms back to her sides. “It’s not like you can march up to Lazar’s wife and present her with the evidence that her husband’s still in love with another woman who just so happened to turn up dead.”
“Wrong again.” I smiled, my thoughts drifting back to Lazar’s shop. Or, more specifically, who was inside Lazar’s shop. I knew exactly who would have the answers I needed. Now, I just had to figure out how to get him to spill the beans.
Chapter 11
The next day, I was sitting behind my computer at The Islander offices—I had begged Sebastian to retrieve a new one for me from the basement, and he had returned ten minutes later with it in tow like a knight in shining armor—typing up my notes from my encounters with Fiona and Lazar, when a shadow fell over my desk.
I turned to find Kellen looming over me, puffs of steam spouting from his nose, his fingers caressing his baton again in a way that told me he would love nothing more than to knock me over the head with it. I opened my mouth and then immediately closed it again, unsure what to say, and cowered against my desk as he bared large, square teeth at me.