Enchanted Island Mysteries : Serena & Grant

by Jenna St James

  “Of course.”

  I hid a smile. “And it’s not weird. In those days, whether it was on the mainland or on the island, families had to fight to stay alive every winter with little food and cold temperatures, and Portia wasn’t married yet. This already-fallen log was a miracle as far as she was concerned. More wood equaled more heat.”

  “You’re right,” Grant said. “I wasn’t thinking about times back then.”

  “Anyway, it was well known the Nights hated the Bearers because for years on the mainland the vampires would hunt in the woods for—well, blood from the animals. The Bearers and other fairies would chase them down and try to stake the vampires for crossing into their protected lands.”

  “So the fairies were like little vampire slayers?”

  I laughed. “You could say that. Like I said, one December night, Portia Bearer found the log midway on the Bearer and Night property and brought it home. She attached ribbons and charms to the log to make a Yule Log as a way to say thank you to the tree and to Mother Earth. One of the charms she attached was a charm she’d also found lying in the woods some years back. It supposedly belonged to a leprechaun who’d dropped it in the forest one day and didn’t realize it until it was too late. He tried to get the charm back from Portia, but she refused.”

  “Which made the leprechaun angry, no doubt.”

  I nodded. “Yes. And the Yule Log has been passed down to the first-born daughter all these generations later.”

  “So Mrs. Songbird is going to be extremely unhappy when I call and tell her the family Yule Log is missing?”

  I snorted. “That’s an understatement.”

  “Now that I know the story, I’d say I have two glaring suspects—assuming the leprechaun family Portia took the charm from over three hundred years ago still lives on this island?”

  “They do. You would need to speak to Laverne Swindell.”

  “Of course I would. Thank you for enlightening me, Serena.”

  I chuckled. “Always glad to help, Detective Wolfe. But now I need to go home. I’m exhausted, and tomorrow will be an even longer day.”

  “Let me walk you to your car,” Grant said.

  I waved him away. “No need. I’m perfectly safe here. Tell the sheriff I’ll see him tomorrow.”

  “Night, Serena. Text me when you reach your car.”

  I nodded. “Will do.”

  Closing the door to Tinker’s Antiques, I stepped out into the cold night air. It was still the first part of December, but the temperature was cooler than normal. The dark sky was lightly spitting snow down on the island with no real accumulation.

  It wasn’t until I was at the bakery and getting into my car that I felt the first twinge of being watched. Looking around, I tried to see where it was coming from. Nothing…but the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. I closed my eyes and whispered a reveal spell to see if I could figure out who was stalking me, but I still had nothing. Either I was totally misreading the signs…or someone out there was blocking my reveal spell.

  I was betting on the latter.

  Chapter 5

  “Are you sure you got enough sleep last night?” Tamara asked for the fifth time. “You look exhausted.”

  “I’ll be fine.” I unlocked the back door to the bakery and followed her inside. “I just need a big cup of coffee, and then I’ll be good to go.”

  “Coming right up.” Tamara hung her purse on the wall peg, took down her apron, tied it around her waist, and headed toward the front of the store. “I’ll whip up a double mocha with an extra shot while you get the ovens turned on.”

  This was my favorite part of the day. Walking into the store with my best friend, whipping up succulent treats while it was still dark outside, and just spending the day soaking up the aromatic smells of sugar, chocolate, and wheat. A heady combination.

  This year Piper agreed to stand outside and hand out free sugar cookies as citizens participated in the Christmas Kickoff. Tamara had spent hours yesterday in the kitchen baking cookies shaped like Christmas trees and snowmen. All that was left was for her to divide the royal icing, add colors, and decorate. While she did that, I started making the dough for the cinnamon rolls.

  At six o’clock, I shoved the three trays of cinnamon rolls, two trays of double chocolate muffins, and two trays of cranberry-orange muffins into the display case and hurried over to turn the CLOSED sign to OPEN.

  “I’m glad the snow didn’t accumulate overnight,” I hollered to Tamara. “It might have put a damper on today’s festivities.”

  As I neared the door, my heart lurched. Something was stuck to the glass door. Flicking my fingers at the light switch, I used a little magic to light up the store as I unlocked the front door. I was about to reach up and yank the paper down when I remembered there might be fingerprints.

  I turned up my palm and produced a small fireball. The heat would do me good since I didn’t have my coat, and I needed the light to read. “Count yourself lucky you still have your tongue. Careful what you say to the nice detective or you might be next.”

  Rage flooded my body, and I instantly felt my insides heat up. Never a good sign. When I got angry, my powers tended to surge. My dad’s family had dragon in their bloodline, and fire was my element. I could call it up in an instant. Unfortunately, I usually called it up when I was angry.

  “Hey there, Serena,” Sheriff Hawkins called out as he and Grant crossed over to me. “Looks like we’re just in time this morning. Figured we’d beat the early morn…” His voice trailed off. “What’s wrong. You don’t look well.”

  I stepped aside, brought my fireball up, and let them see the note on the door.

  Grant swore. “You didn’t touch it did you?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Of course I didn’t touch it. Do you forget I do have a little training in your field?”

  “I’m sorry,” Grant said. “It’s just an automatic question.”

  I blew out a sigh. “I’m sorry too. I’m just freaked out a little.”

  “I’ll run to my Blazer and get an evidence bag,” Sheriff Hawkins said.

  “You can put that out,” Grant said. “I have a light handy.”

  I closed my hand and the fireball disappeared.

  “Serena?” Tamara mused as she opened the door. “What’s going on out here? What’s on the door?”

  “Careful of the note,” Grant cautioned.

  “Are you kidding me?” Tamara demanded once she’d seen the note. “Who did this? Who do I need to fight?”

  I threw back my head and laughed. A big belly laugh…and it felt good. “Thanks, I needed that.”

  Tamara scowled. “It wasn’t meant to be funny.”

  “I know.” I wrapped my arms around my best friend and gave her a squeeze. “Thanks.”

  “You two girls stand back,” Sheriff Hawkins said as he sidled up next to us with an evidence bag. “Let me get this out of the way.”

  I crossed over to Grant. “I didn’t say anything last night in my text to you, but I think someone was watching me as I walked to my car.”

  Grant nodded but said nothing for a few seconds. He just kept nodding his head. “Notice how calm and rational I’m being right now? It’s all for show. Why the heck didn’t you tell me?”

  I threw up one hand. “I don’t know. I just thought it was my imagination.”

  “No, you didn’t,” Grant said. “Otherwise you wouldn’t have mentioned it this morning.”

  I sighed. “Okay. Maybe I did a reveal spell last night and couldn’t see anyone.”

  “Meaning?” Grant asked.

  Tamara gasped. “Meaning someone cloaked who and where they were! Serena, why wouldn’t you say anything?”

  I shrugged. “I didn’t know it would escalate to this.”

  Sheriff Hawkins closed the evidence bag and pursed his lips. “You’re gonna hate me askin’ this, Serena, but do you think you can call in your mom to help out at the store today? I could really use your help here. I have Dep
uties Sparks and Hexton already assigned to cover the stores and park today, while I cover the rest of the island.”

  “Sheriff, I can’t,” I said. “I can’t leave Tamara to—”

  “You most certainly can!” Tamara exclaimed. “Piper should be here any minute, and if your mom and my mom come in, we’ll be more than covered. Finding out who killed Mr. Tinker and who stole the Yule Log is more important.”

  “I agree,” Sheriff Hawkins said. “Serena, you know the suspects, the family feud, the island, and you might even be able to tune in to who threatened you.”

  I groaned. “This is so not fair.”

  “I bet we can be back by noon,” Grant said.

  “Keep your head about you,” Sheriff Hawkins said to me, “and remember everything I’ve taught you.”

  Five minutes later, I followed Grant to the Enchanted Island Sheriff’s Department Blazer and hopped inside. I handed him a cup of hot coffee and settled back to think about everything so far.

  “It’s almost like someone is playing with us,” I said.

  “Come again?”

  “The note. There was emphasis on ‘count’ and ‘lucky’ as though they were trying to confuse us as to who the writer was.”

  Grant nodded and took a sip of his coffee. “I noticed that too. Extremely vague clue.”

  “Turn here,” I said. “We’re about five miles away. So I should probably tell you a little about the land out here. The first house will be Mrs. Songbird’s. This is the original land Portia Bearer was granted when she moved to the island over three hundred years ago. The Bearer family has always lived on that land.”

  “Mr. Songbird didn’t mind moving to her land?” Grant asked.

  “It was known whoever married Bronwyn Bearer would live on her land. But it’s a moot point now. Mr. Songbird passed away about ten years ago. Hunting accident.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “So anyway, the Bearer land consists of over thirty acres of prime real estate. They were given the land because Portia was the most qualified at that time to watch over the coveted Midnight Belladonna.” I held up my hand. “And before you ask, I’ll let them tell you about it. Anyway, they have thirty acres here, and then bordering their land is the Night land.”

  “Why am I not the least bit surprised two feuding families would live side-by-side?” Grant deadpanned.

  Chapter 6

  “It’s this driveway right here.” I pointed to a small opening between two oak trees. “Goes back about half a mile.”

  We bumped along silently through the woods until we pulled up in front of a small stone cottage. While ivy climbed both sides of the house, the most striking feature was the living roof.

  “What on earth?” Grant mused.

  “Cool right?” I opened the door, hopped down, then grabbed my purse since it had gloves and evidence bags. “The Bearers have grown vegetables and flowers on their roof for centuries. Long before green roofs were even popular.”

  Grant frowned. “Before what was popular?”

  I laughed. “Never mind.”

  The front door swung open and Mrs. Songbird motioned us inside. She had a thin, slender build and barely reached my shoulders, yet strength and power radiated from her. She was dressed in a floor-length black house dress and a gray cardigan. Her long, black and silver hair hung loosely down her back.

  A quick glance told me nothing had changed since the last time I’d been in the large one-room cottage. Herbs and flowers dried from the wooden rafters overhead, the hardwood floor was covered in hand-sewn rugs, and a massive walk-in fireplace in the kitchen was already cooking something in a cast-iron pot.

  “Good morning, Serena,” Mrs. Songbird said. “And you must be the detective I spoke to on the phone?”

  “Yes. Grant Wolfe.”

  The two shook hands.

  “Any news this morning about Mr. Tinker’s killer or my Yule Log?” Mrs. Songbird asked.

  “Not yet, Mrs. Songbird,” Grant said.

  “Call me Bronwyn, please. Come, let’s sit in the kitchen. My daughter, Brenna, should have the tea ready.”

  “I just set it on the table,” Brenna Songbird said. “Serena, it’s nice to see you. I haven’t been to the bakery in a while. With blooming season going on, I’m taking the graveyard shifts, so I don’t get out much in the mornings.”

  Grant and I sat down at a table I knew was at least two hundred years old. No one said a word until Bronwyn poured the hot tea and we all cradled the mugs in our hands.

  “I’m not sure what more information I can give you about the Yule Log other than what I said last night.” Bronwyn brushed a tear from the edge of her eye. “I’m terribly sorry about Mr. Tinker, but I’m heartbroken about the Yule Log. It’s been in our family for over three hundred years, and this is the first time…”

  Her voice trailed off as she looked toward the fireplace.

  “We’re all taking this rather hard,” Brenna said. “Bailey, my younger sister, offered to take Mom’s shift this morning so she could be available to help in the recovery of the log. I do the graveyard shift from about eleven until seven. Mom usually relieves me around seven.”

  Grant set his mug down on the table. “What’s with all these shifts, and what is Midnight Belladonna?”

  Bronwyn set her mug down on the table. “The Midnight Belladonna only blooms on our land. It’s the whole reason the Bearers were given this land over three hundred fifty years ago. We were entrusted to make sure the plants live and thrive, but do no harm.”

  “Harm?” Grant mused.

  “The Midnight Belladonna only blooms once a year for about two weeks. But when it blooms, it’s very dangerous. Poisonous. It always blooms around the first two weeks of December. Because there’s no set date, my family and I start watching the flowers around the end of November, just to be safe.”

  Grant frowned. “How many flowers are we talking? And if they’re dangerous, why haven’t they been destroyed?”

  Brenna gasped. “We don’t kill flowers just because they may be dangerous in the hands of the wrong person. The Bearers are watchers, caregivers over the land. We don’t kill.”

  “Okay,” Grant said, “how many flowers are we talking?”

  “Five now,” Bronwyn said. “About ten months ago one of the plants was stolen. Since it wasn’t in bloom, it wasn’t as harmful. Sadly, whoever stole the flower has probably killed it by now because they’d have no idea how to care for it. We let the sheriff know, but nothing ever came of it. With the flowers in bloom right now and extremely dangerous, none of us will be leaving the land the next few weeks.”

  “I know this doesn’t really get us closer to who killed Mr. Tinker and who stole your log,” Grant said, “but I’m curious to know what would happen if the Midnight Belladonna was stolen when it was in bloom?”

  “Picked when it blooms,” Bronwyn said, “it could kill. It’s loaded with poison.”

  Grant sighed. “So another thing to be on the lookout for.”

  Bronwyn smiled. “Detective, that job has fallen to my family, and we take that job very seriously. There is no need to trouble yourself over the safety of the flowers right now.”

  “What’s so dangerous about it?” Grant asked.

  “If ingested when fully bloomed, even the tiniest bit, it can cause immediate death,” Bronwyn said. “When it’s not in blooming season, which was when the plant ten months ago was stolen, I really don’t know. I’m not a scientist or researcher.”

  “Show the detective the letters, Momma,” Brenna said.

  Bronwyn rose from the table and walked over to the wooden kitchen island.

  “That’s the largest fireplace I’ve ever seen,” Grant said. “Takes up nearly the whole wall and it has to be—what? Five feet deep?”

  Brenna laughed. “It’s how they used to build them. Since it heated the whole house and most of the cooking was done in the fireplace, it had to be spacious enough that the women could maneuver aro
und safely inside.”

  “Here are the notes I’ve received over the last two days.” Bronwyn handed the letters to Grant. “This is why I called Mr. Tinker yesterday to check on the Yule Log.”

  Grant slipped on a glove I handed him, opened the first letter, and read aloud. “You take from me, and I take from you.” He laid it down on the table and selected the next one. “I have a stake in that log.” He picked up the last letter. “You’ve led a charmed life up until now.”

  “Do you know the story of the Yule Log?” Bronwyn asked.

  Grant nodded. “Serena told me.”

  “So you know the Nights and the Swindells have always been a threat to me and my family.”

  Brenna sighed. “Mom, times have changed. Your generational conspiracy theories aren’t relevant any more. Kyle and his dad wouldn’t do that.”

  “I think it’s the Nights,” Bronwyn said, as though her daughter hadn’t spoken. “They’ve always hated the Bearers and have always felt the log belonged to them. I believe they finally took it back, and Mr. Tinker paid the price with his life.”

  “We will be questioning the Nights,” Grant said. “We have a witness who states Kyle Night was in Mr. Tinker’s store around three yesterday.”

  Brenna gasped. “No! It’s not possible.”

  “I’m afraid so,” Grant said. “If you can think of anything else I need to know, please don’t hesitate to contact me. I understand how important this log is to you and your family. I’ll do everything in my power to see it’s returned.”

  Chapter 7

  “I assume since we’re right next door,” I said, “we’ll go see the Nights next?”

  Grant grinned. “Nope. Let’s go see Laverne Swindell next.”

  “Word of warning,” I said. “She’s kind of—well, she likes to hit on men. I only tell you that because you’re about the right age for her to start fawning over.”

  “Fawning over?” Grant mused.

  I grinned. “Yeah. Laverne Swindell is kind of a resident cougar. She’s about fifty-five, but likes to date men in their thirties. That’s about your age, right?”