Magical Murder: An Urban Fantasy Mystery (The Lyon Fox Mysteries Book 1)

by Ann Denton

  I giggle. “This is by far the best game of fun facts I’ve ever played. And I had someone confess to me once that he went through a streaking phase. Like he loved half-shifting and flying naked past the neighbors.”

  “Frat bat-shifter?”

  I laugh. “Something like that.” I hope Bennett’s listening in with his co-workers right now. And I hope that made him really uncomfortable. It still doesn’t make up for what he did to me. Not by a long shot. I decide he needs to be a little more uncomfortable, since Luke and I are still a block away from the restaurant.

  “So, I have a problem and I need some male advice.”

  “The problem you had earlier this evening?”

  “Georgina Knight’s murder?” I gauge his face carefully as I say this. I’m not an expert, but I think he looks sad. “No. Not that. I don’t even know where to start with that.”

  He sighs. “Me either.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “Did you know her?”

  He nods. “We dated a while ago.”

  “Oh.” Well, that’s a way more honest answer than I expected. But then, you can’t exactly hide dating someone can you? “I’m sorry.”

  He shrugs. “We weren’t a match.”

  I lean in and whisper, “She wasn’t a foodie?”

  He gives a half-laugh. “Definitely not.”

  I wink. “Lucky thing I am.”

  His eyes glint in the moonlight. “I hope so. So, what’s your problem?”

  “An ex problem.”

  Luke’s eyebrows shoot up.

  “This guy is stalking me.”

  “Have you called the police?”

  I sigh. “Not like provable stalking.”

  We turn a corner and Wendel’s is there. You can smell the deliciousness from outside. It doesn’t even need a sign. In a town full of were animals with keen noses, the smells coming from this place are better than flashing neon. Cinnamon rolls early. Barbeque later. And strawberries if you get there just before dawn and they’re making homemade jam. Sometimes I sit out on the curb and just inhale. (For a minute. Before I go in to stuff my face.)

  We walk in. It’s not midnight yet so there’s no lunch crowd. The typical fifties black and white tiles decorate the floor. Red booths line the room. A giant glass-faced bakery display tempts everyone in line to add four hundred calories to their order.

  But my favorite are the posters. Wendels has posters of all the monster movies that came out in the fifties. Dracula. Creature from the Black Lagoon. The Mole People. There’s nothing funnier than seeing what humans think we look like. Edging the posters are polaroids of customers mocking the poses. Vamps pretending to be Dracula … you get the idea.

  Luke and I are silent while we’re in line. But it’s not awkward. Which in itself is weird. Shouldn’t I feel more uncomfortable? I just met this guy. Bennett thinks he might be a murderer. I should be on edge, right? But it feels like we’re old friends. Do I have broken bad-guy radar? Or is he so hot that the wires in my brain have literally short circuited? I have no idea but staring at him out of the corner of my eye is so frickin’ enjoyable.

  I’m tempted to see if he wants to take a polaroid just so I can sneak back later and steal it. Hide it under my pillow. (Because vamps totally show up in pics now. At least the ones with enough coin to purchase a spell or two from Wishmart.)

  Before I can fully form a reasonable way to ask for photos, we reach the front of the line.

  I order. They do have a waitress claiming she’s AB negative on the menu but Luke waves her off.

  “Are you sure?” I look at the massive, head-sized cinnamon roll and giant cup of milk I’m about to consume. “I might feel more comfortable if you ate something too. Instead of just staring at me.”

  He laughs. “First, your cinnamon roll smells delicious.” He winks. “Second, I think staring at you is my new favorite thing.”

  I roll my eyes. “Yeah, because before now, I have looked so amazing.”

  “I liked your skirt in court,” he responds as we sit at a corner booth. He scoots over until we’re as close as possible without actual touching. My body hums in fear but also in awareness.

  His comment prompts an entire diatribe against Arnold and Bennett, and an explanation of my under-the-desk filing antics that has Hot Vamp’s shoulders shaking in laughter. He’s not a murderer. No one who gets my jokes could possibly be a bad person.

  “Would you, as a guy, ever try to get a job at your ex’s office?”

  His eyes widen. “Stalker didn’t just show up. He’s working at your office?”

  I nod.

  He’s quiet for a minute. “You’re over this guy, right?”

  “We broke up over two years ago.” I roll my eyes and try and sound nonchalant. I do not want to mention how many recent months I’ve spent crying over that relationship, or how every date until today’s spy date with a laughing, hot-as-hell potential murderer fizzled in comparison to Bennett.

  Luke’s hand reaches for mine, but he stops himself. His fingers hover centimeters away. His stare is intense. “I’m glad you’re over him. If he’s following you, I don’t think he’s over you. Because I have to tell you, the only way in hell I’d subject myself to working with an ex is if I wanted her back.”

  I drop my fork.

  Chapter 8

  I excuse myself to go to the ladies’ room, but really, I just need a breather after that bombshell.

  He’s wrong. Luke’s wrong. I only brought this topic up to piss Bennett off if he was listening. And now, here I am having a hard time breathing.

  It’s not true—

  My cell rings.

  “Hello.”

  “Where are you? What’s happening?” Bennett’s voice is tense on the line.

  “I’m in the flipping ladies room. What’s your problem?”

  “My problem is you’re messing around. Flirting. Talking about me. Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing. You’re not getting information.”

  “Well, my problem is you shouldn’t even be working at my office. I shouldn’t even be accused of murder.”

  “Damn it, Ly, I’m trying to help you. I got enough evidence to let them bond you out on OR. Do you even know what bond normally is on a murder case? Now, I’m trying to keep you safe from—”

  “From a guy who seems nice and normal and not a stalker?”

  “From a guy who was following Georgina the night she was murdered who has known associations with the Crypts.”

  I still. The Crypts are bad news. A local mostly-vamp gang who like to bury their victims alive.

  Wait. “He was following Georgina?” He said he was over her …

  Bennett notes my silence. “Finally, you’re taking this seriously.”

  I snap. “Finally, you’re giving me some mother-lovin’ info and not treating me like I’m four.”

  “I wouldn’t treat you like you’re four if you didn’t act like you were four.”

  I want to throw my phone at the wall. I resist, reminding myself I’m still on leave until this entire investigation closes. I can’t afford a new phone. Instead of destroying my cell, I end the call and do the next best thing. I pull off Bennett’s necklace and drop it in the toilet. I flush. I hope he can hear that sound back at the office and I hope it sounds like an effin’ tidal wave.

  I touch up my lipstick and go back to my date.

  I slide into our booth and say, “Sorry. You kinda freaked me out I guess.”

  Luke smiles softly. “I noticed. Sorry.”

  I push back my half-eaten cinnamon roll and stare at a three-year-old centaur with palamino coloring whose parents seem to have given her the run of the place. They’re nowhere in sight. She smacks another patron with a spoon. A little whirlwind of chaos. A mini-me.

  I let the silence linger for a second, deciding to try to pull some more of the innocent girl-needs-help thing. It seems better than the alternative, which is hitting him for lying and saying he’s over his ex when he isn’t an
d then giving me the best date I’ve had in years. Oh. Shit. Calm down. Game face. Go.

  “What do I do about this guy? How do I let him know I’m not interested? What would work if it was you?”

  He laughs. “This is the craziest first date conversation I’ve ever had.”

  “Me too. But I need help. I’ll let you sniff my cinnamon roll.” I push the plate toward him and bat my eyes.

  “I wish you didn’t mean that literally.”

  “Dirty mind! I thought you liked it literally.”

  “Not nearly as much as the alternative.”

  “But seriously. I don’t want him to keep following me. But I don’t want to be mean. Too mean. I have to work with him now.”

  “Well, that’s where you and my ex differ.”

  “What?”

  Luke runs his free hand through his hair. “She had no problems being mean.”

  I gasp, as if I didn’t know Georgina was an ice queen. “Who would ever want to get rid of you? She’s crazy. I mean look at those tattoos.” Licking my lips is totally a seductive ploy. It has nothing to do with the way his biceps bulge as he puts his elbows on the table. Nothing.

  He laughs. “They’re great right? Okay, okay. Stop. Or I’ll have to wipe drool off your face, and no touching, right?”

  He’s serious. I am about to drool. It’s bad.

  “Georgina is—was crazy. I still can’t believe it.” He sighs. “She had a plan for her life. Most vamps live so long and they embrace a purpose. Usually become a little fanatical about it. I didn’t fit her image for City Council boy-toy so she didn’t want me anymore.”

  “That’s a stupendous reason to dump someone. Cursing curse. You know what I mean.” I wave a hand.

  “That’s what I thought.”

  “You should have argued with her over it. I would have.”

  “I was going to argue with her. That’s why I was there last night.”

  Luke was following her. He admitted it. Bennett was telling the truth. He was probably telling the truth about the Crypts too. Shit. I try not to tense.

  The centaur toddler runs over to me, holding her spoon up like a sword. Here’s a quick out. Distraction strike.

  “One sec. I can’t resist.” I unroll Luke’s unused napkin and grab the spoon. “On guard.” She squeals and smacks my wrist with her spoon. Clearly, she has not yet perfected her silverware battle technique. I give her a pass. Until she opens her mouth. Puke spews directly at me. I jump sideways, right into Luke’s lap. I escape the stream, but now I’m caught in his brawny arms.

  “I—I—” I try not to panic.

  “Well. This is a memorable first date. Think that’s the first time a girl’s ever literally jumped me.”

  I can’t help it. I laugh. Loud. Hard. Here I am in the arms of a real-life scary vamp probable-criminal and I just escaped a puke attack. Tears stream down my face. “I think I just ruined my makeup.”

  “I’d offer to help but I think—”

  His comment reminds me that I’m touching him. That I’m still on his lap. I scramble over him to the non-puke side of the booth. “Sorry.”

  I eye the damage. Only thing is, it doesn’t look like damage at all. Where the little girl spewed, there’s raspberry-colored whipped cream. And it smells like…

  “Is that … chocolate chip cookies?” Luke’s longing is evident in his voice. His eyes are closed. Rapture is the only word to describe his expression.

  “Freshly puked.” I counter.

  His eyes pop open. He eyes the mess. “That’s just wrong.”

  “I know.”

  There are a couple shifters in dog form across the room, lapping up some spilled ice cream. I’d prefer not to be here when they see the mess that the wild child left behind. Luke and I stand.

  “Sorry about all that weirdness.”

  “I’m not.” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively.

  I shake my head at him. “Don’t. You just told me you were following your ex last night.” Despite being scared of vamps, part of me is a little sad. “You aren’t over her. You aren’t ready for dating. Which means now I have to go home and pout and have dreams about those biceps.”

  He stares at me hard. “No. I’m very over her. She dumped me two months ago. When she decided to start this stupid campaign. I was going to argue with her last night because she dumped me so she could steal her best friend’s boyfriend like the lying, back-stabbing bitch she was. Cherry just told me last night. And she was devastated.”

  Wait, Georgina stole her best friend’s boyfriend? That’s an epic low. And that puts someone new in the hot seat. Someone who might have a more urgent motive to kill her.

  “Who’s her best friend?”

  “Cherry Jones, the baker who just made that cinnamon roll you ate. She owns this place.”

  I groan. Wendel’s is one of my top three favorite places in the city. “If she did it and has to close up shop, I’m gonna kill her.”

  But first, I better find out if she did.

  Chapter 9

  I turn to Luke. "Introduce me, please."

  "What—now?" he asks.

  I shove away my anxiety about touching vamps to push on his back. I take zero notice of his ripped trapezius muscles. The shiver down my spine is completely out of fear as I steer him toward the kitchen door. "Yes, now. I've been accused of murder and her best friend probably knows every single person who hates her. She probably knows exactly who did it.”

  If someone ever decided to do me in, you bet JR would have a list of suspects. And in this case, Georgina's best friend is now one of my top suspects.

  Luke ducks to the side and stops before we enter the kitchen. “Maybe we shouldn't talk to her if the police haven't talked to her first.”

  He’s got a point. Dammit. “What if we just ask her about people Georgina ticked off lately? We won't mention exactly what happened last night."

  No way in the underworld am I walking out those doors without finding out what she knows. Best friends always have dirt. And this one has even more than most. She has hate too. I push Luke through the kitchen doors, ignoring a waitress who tries to stop us.

  "Cherry?” I call out at the top of my voice. It's not loud enough. A working kitchen is loud: knives, and hissing pots, and yelling orders. I ninja around a couple of sous chefs to get to what looks like the bakery section.

  I bump into a woman with the rainbow-colored hair typical of a unicorn shifter. She turns around and bats the biggest violet eyes I've ever seen.

  "Can I help you?"

  Luke catches up in time to make the introduction. "Cherry, this is Ly-Ly. I met her last night.”

  I have trouble believing this sweet, innocent looking chef was BFF with Georgina.

  I grab her flour-covered hand. “I’m in love with your cream puffs, your cinnamon rolls, and pretty much every fruit tart you make. Except kiwi. Not my thing. I just had to meet you when he said he knew you.” I pour on the flattery, which isn’t hard, because it’s all one hundred percent true. She’s a kitchen goddess.

  She blushes. “Thanks. Have you tried the new pixie-berry scones?”

  “No! They didn’t even tell me about it out front!”

  “They smell like heaven,” Luke pitches in.

  Cherry smiles at Luke. “I tolerate him because he’s at least half-appreciative of my work.” She waves an arm and I notice scars down her forearm, in a crisscross pattern.

  “Ouch!” I touch her arm again. “I have a couple scars like that.” I try not to be obvious about studying her scratch marks. A couple are fresh. I’ll have to tell Bennett. If there was a struggle between Georgina and her killer, the killer could have as many scars as I do. Is Cherry mad enough for murder?

  “Yes, well, the price of working in the kitchen.” She pats her arm. “I like to think of them as battle wounds.”

  “Well, it’s definitely worth the sacrifice. If food could be in a museum, yours would have one,” I assure her. “I’ll get the scones
next time I come in.”

  “Great!” She blinks, not quite sure what to do with us. I’m trying to find some smooth segue when Luke jumps in.

  “I saw Georgina last night.”

  Immediately, Cherry’s temper flares. “What’d that bitch have to say for herself?”

  “I couldn’t really talk to her. I got jumped.”

  “Oh my gosh. Are you okay? Was Timmy there? Is he okay? Did you talk to him?” I didn’t think it was possible for a human shifter’s eyes to get so wide. But it’s almost like she’s a cartoon. Her eyes keep growing and growing, until they overpower her face. She blinks back tears. It’s a sucker punch to the gut. Irresistible cuteness and worry rolled up into one. Damn. I’ve heard about unicorn powers before. But Cherry is beyond. I want to do anything to help her. Anything to stop her lip from quivering.

  “Timmy wasn’t there last night. I didn’t see him.” I pat her arm, trying to see the scars again. No luck.

  My reassurance helps slightly. Luke’s nod helps more. Her eyes grow more normal-sized. “He really wasn’t there?” She tilts her head. “But he wasn’t at home.”

  Luke shrugs. “Georgina kinda went on a rampage last night.”

  Cherry rolls her eyes. “What else is new?”

  “Well, kind of a public rampage,” I add. “She accused Saffron Watts of leaking stuff to the press about her.”

  Cherry sighed. “Like what?”

  “Draining a human.”

  She runs a hand through her hair, dulling the rainbow with flour. “Of course. You know, she brings all this stuff on herself. She’s been acting weird since this campaign started.”

  “What you mean?” I ask, leaning casually against her worktable, ignoring an assistant baker who glares at me.

  "Well, for starters, she stopped letting anybody go over to her apartment about two months ago. I mean, Georgina used to host the most awesome dinner parties in town. Half because I made the food, of course. Does it make sense that she stopped right before she wanted to campaign for City Council? It's weird."

  If I've learned anything from watching the investigators at our office, it's agree with people to keep them talking. "That is really weird. They would make such easy campaign fundraisers."