“Another night this week, I promise.” He kissed me again before rising to his feet. “Good luck with the tournament. Keep me informed.”
I walked him to the door and kissed him again. It was always hard to watch him go. I enjoyed his company and wanted to make it last as long as possible, but he was right. I needed sleep. I was a monster without at least eight hours, which explained my mood most of the time.
It was only when I attempted to charge my phone at bedtime that I realized I didn’t have it. I searched the cottage from top to bottom and even went out to the car to check under the seats. The last time I remembered having it was at Palmetto House. It was too late to bother Linnea now. I’d head over there first thing in the morning and grab it. If I timed my arrival right, maybe I’d be lucky and get breakfast while I was there. With the promise of bacon and buttermilk pancakes, I drifted into a peaceful slumber.
The next morning, I was up before sunrise, mostly because Marley had wandered in during the night and was now pushing me off the side of the bed. She blinked at me, bleary-eyed.
“How did you end up in here?” I asked.
“I had a bad dream about killing dragons,” she said. “I like dragons. I want to make friends with them, not kill them.”
I laughed. “I can see this tournament is going to go well for us.”
“They should create a game that encourages collaboration,” Marley said. “See how many successful coalitions you can build to achieve a set goal.”
I flipped back the covers. “You start working on that one and we’ll see how to make it happen.”
“It’s still early,” Marley said. “You can go back to sleep.”
“I left my phone at Linnea’s,” I said. “I need to head over and get it before the day gets away from me. Do you want to come?”
She stretched. “No, I’m going to try and sleep a little more.”
“Why don’t you try and sleep a little more in your own bed?”
“Fine.” Marley rolled out of bed and stood with her shoulders hunched. “Don’t let me sleep too late.”
“I won’t. We have a tournament to play, after all.”
She blew a stray hair out of her eye. “That was my idea, wasn’t it?”
“Yep.” I quickly showered and dressed. My hair was still slightly damp when I slipped on shoes and headed for the car. I debated flying over, but I wasn’t sure how easy it would be to land next to the inn. Her plot wasn’t particularly big.
I parked right in front of the inn and ran up the steps to the front door. I knew it would be unlocked at this hour. Although it was early, the players would want to hit the ground running this morning.
There was no sign of anyone in the main living area. “Linnea,” I called. No answer. I decided to check the kitchen. My stomach rumbled at the mere possibility of breakfast. I reached the doorway and came to an abrupt halt. “Linnea, are you okay?”
She kneeled on the floor, holding a cast iron skillet. It was only when I maneuvered around the island that I saw the problem. A leprechaun was face down on the floor in a puddle of blood. Linnea craned her neck to look at me, her eyes flooded with tears.
“It’s Clark,” she said. “He’s dead.”
Chapter Three
Deputy Bolan hunched over the body. “See? This is what happens when leprechauns get treated like the redheaded stepchildren of the gaming world.”
I peered at him. “You think Clark was killed because leprechauns are easy to kill in the game? A bit of a stretch, don’t you think?”
The deputy straightened and crossed his arms. “Someone probably got caught up in nonsense of the game and decided to test the iron theory in real life.”
“Are you really vulnerable to iron?” I asked. I began to fantasize about taking the deputy to the golf course for a ‘friendly’ game.
“If you bash me in the head with an iron skillet, I think you’ll find I’m pretty vulnerable,” he replied.
“It was my good skillet too,” Linnea said. “The newer ones just aren’t the same.”
“Yes, it’s the skillet we should be mourning,” Deputy Bolan said.
“Have you seen Lewis?” I asked. “Someone will have to break the news about his friend.”
“Unless he already knows,” the deputy said ominously. “Who’s the friend?”
“He’s a gnome called Lewis,” I said.
“Lewis and Clark?” the deputy queried. “Were they on some kind of gaming expedition together?”
“Marley will be pleased that someone else gets the reference,” I said.
“I like human history,” Deputy Bolan said. “Gives me a good giggle. It’s really amusing when they think they’ve discovered places that had already been inhabited for thousands of years.”
“Any idea where Lewis is?” I asked.
Linnea shook her head. “He missed breakfast this morning.”
“Maybe the sheriff should check his room when he gets here,” I said. Great popcorn balls of fire, the thought of a double homicide under Linnea’s roof was nauseating.
The leprechaun hoisted up his belt. “I’ll go,” he said. “Which room?”
“Second door on the right,” Linnea said.
“If you’re not back in ten minutes, we’ll presume the worst,” I called after him. He didn’t bother to turn around, not even to scowl.
Linnea’s hand covered her mouth as she stared at the lifeless body. “How could something like this happen under my own roof?”
“It only takes a split second to whack someone with a skillet,” I said. “They probably ran straight out the back door with no one the wiser.”
“This is going to be terrible for business,” Linnea said. “Word is going to get around that Palmetto House is Starry Hollow’s murder capital.”
I slung an arm across her shoulders. “And if that happens, you can just turn the inn into its own attraction. Tourists love murdery places.”
“Toss in a few ghosts and you’ll be golden.” Sheriff Granger Nash swaggered into the kitchen. “You could have your own Casper’s Revenge-type place.” Casper’s Revenge was a local inn managed entirely by ghosts. He stopped short at the sight of the dead leprechaun. “I guess this is our potential ghost.”
“Clark,” I said. “He was in town for the tournament.”
“At first glance I thought he was Bolan.” Sheriff Nash rubbed his forehead. “I gotta admit my heart skipped a beat.”
“Are you saying all leprechauns look alike?” I clucked my tongue. “Don’t let the deputy here you say that.”
“I said at first glance,” he said. “To be fair, they’re both small and green.”
“And mouthy,” I said. “Clark wasn’t exactly a shrinking clover.”
The sheriff surveyed the kitchen. “Where is my mouthy little green guy?”
“Upstairs,” I said. “Checking for Clark’s friend, Lewis.”
He started. “You mean we might have two victims?”
“Only one, thank the gods,” Deputy Bolan’s voice rang out.
The tightening in my chest released. One victim was bad enough, but two would have been a lot worse. Starry Hollow would have been wiped off the map for any future events.
The living leprechaun reappeared in the kitchen. “There’s no corpse. His stuff is still there, but he’s not.”
“He’s probably already out gaming,” I said. “This tournament is no joke to them.”
“Which is probably why we’re looking at a murder victim,” the sheriff said. He seemed to notice my outfit for the first time. “You’re here bright and early, Rose. Did you sleep here?”
“No, I left my phone here at dinner,” I said.
Linnea smacked her forehead. “Yes, I found it and put it in my purse.” She motioned to the back of the kitchen door. “It’s on the hook.”
I crossed the kitchen and rooted around in her bag until I found my phone. “Thanks.”
Linnea wore a pained expression. “Do you really think someo
ne killed Clark over a stupid game?”
“The game isn’t stupid to them,” I said. “I noticed Clark doing hand exercises at dinner, limbering up for the weekend.”
“Did Clark travel here with anyone aside from Lewis?” the sheriff asked.
“No,” Linnea said. “They’re friends from home and they came together. That’s it.”
“Anyone else staying here aside from you and the kids?” the sheriff asked.
“My cousin, Philip Muldoon,” Linnea said.
The sheriff raised his eyebrows. “A Muldoon, huh? Why not stay at Thornhold?”
“He and Aunt Hyacinth aren’t exactly best buds,” I said.
His mouth twitched. “I like the guy already.”
“Philip went out right before breakfast,” Linnea said.
“Did he have any interaction with the victim?” the sheriff asked.
“No, they missed each other by a hair. Philip said he had to defeat two werewolves, a vampire, and a dragon before lunch, so there was no time to waste.”
“I don’t know how you can slaughter that many creatures on an empty stomach,” Deputy Bolan said.
“He took a banana and a bottle of water,” Linnea said. “Let me try calling him now.” She clicked the phone and held it to her ear. “Straight to voicemail.”
Deputy Bolan whipped out his roll of tape to secure the scene. “This town could be flooded with suspects. How are we going to track them all down?”
“Just find the hot spots,” I said. “Florian can tell you where they are.”
Sheriff Nash gave me his full attention. “Hot spots?”
“He knows where you can battle a dragon,” I said. “That sort of thing. It will make it easier to find Philip and anybody else you want to question.”
Deputy Bolan crouched down to examine the victim. “His phone is missing.”
“Could he have left it in his room?” the sheriff asked.
Linnea shook her head. “He had it when I saw him at breakfast. As far as I know, he never left this floor. I went back downstairs to shower.”
“Clark didn’t seem the type to ever be separated from his phone,” I said. I pictured him cuddling the device in bed at night.
Linnea glanced at her own phone. “I texted Florian. He said that Philip is an experienced player, so he could be anywhere from werewolves to vampires to dragons.”
“Where are those hot spots?” the sheriff asked.
Linnea scanned the text. “He said the two most likely places now are Balefire Beach and Haverford House.”
“I can check Haverford House,” I said. It would be good to let Artemis know that her property would be inundated with paranormals this weekend, if Florian hadn’t already warned her. The elderly witch might barricade herself inside the house, not that she was prone to leave.
The sheriff looked at me. “You don’t need to feel obligated to help.”
I put my hands on my hips. “Since when will I voluntarily sit out of an investigation?”
“Florian asks that you please not report this as part of your article on the tournament, Ember,” Linnea said.
“We need to find out what happened first,” I said. “We don’t know that his death is related to the tournament.”
“The iron weapon says otherwise,” the deputy said, “but I’m willing to reserve judgment.”
“You’re just salty because the victim is a leprechaun,” I said. “His death isn’t a reflection on your species, you know. We’d all succumb to a cast iron skillet.”
“Don’t mind him. He was born salty,” the sheriff said.
The deputy shot me an aggrieved look. “I’ll check out the beach. It’s on my way home anyway and I need to grab my lunch. I forgot it earlier. My husband will kill me if he sees it there when he comes home. He made it special.”
Sheriff Nash cast me a sidelong glance. “Mind if I join you at Haverford House?”
I suddenly felt awkward having volunteered to go there. I didn’t want the sheriff to feel uncomfortable during his own investigation. “I can skip it. I’m sure there are other ways I can help.”
“Don’t back out on me now, Rose,” the sheriff said. “I’m sure Artemis will be pleased to see you.”
“If you’re sure,” I said.
“You two head over there. I’ll take care of things here before I go to the beach,” Deputy Bolan said.
The sheriff faced me. “How about I drive?”
I squinted. “Why do I get the sense that you’re placing judgment on my driving skills?”
“Because I’ve seen you behind the wheel enough times to know.” He paused. “And your taste in music is questionable.”
My jaw unhinged. “I know you’re not making disparaging remarks about Billy Joel and Bruce Springsteen.”
He chuckled as he headed toward the front door. I hurried after him, still defending myself.
“Relax, Rose,” he said, unlocking the car doors. “I’ll treat your ears to actual music. Consider it a gift.”
I slid into the passenger seat and buckled my seatbelt. “I know what good music sounds like, thank you. I’m from New Jersey.”
“Exactly,” the sheriff said. The engine roared to life and away we went. Once we were safely on the road, he turned up the volume on the current song.
I started to laugh. “You can’t be serious. This is a joke, right?” Even my father would’ve laughed at Bobby Darin’s Dream Lover.
He shot me a quick glance. “What? This song is great.”
“If you’re a World War II veteran, sure,” I said. “If you’re going old school, you should at least try Elvis or Frank Sinatra.” I leaned over. “Sinatra is from New Jersey, you know.”
“Duly noted.”
“I didn’t realize you listened to any music from the human world.”
“I didn’t always,” he said. “I started listening to find something good after…” He trailed off.
“After what?”
“After you came to town and played all these songs I hadn’t heard before.” He seemed slightly embarrassed. “And I did karaoke that one night, remember?”
“How could I forget? You and Alec both…” I stopped abruptly. It seemed too close for comfort to reminisce about a competition between them.
“We’re here.” The sheriff pulled into the driveway at Haverford House.
I spotted several gamers roaming the grounds. No Philip or Lewis though. “Let me send a quick text to Marley and make sure she’s awake and dressed.” She replied with an eye roll emoji. Typical tween.
I knocked and wasn’t at all surprised when an unseen hand pulled open the door. I entered first with the sheriff close enough behind me that I could feel his breath on my neck. I turned to look at him.
“Have you forgotten the notion of personal space?” I wondered if he was anxious about Jefferson, the ghostly manservant that took care of Artemis in more ways than I cared to think about.
“What makes you say that?” he asked. He practically bumped into me on the way to the parlor.
“No reason,” I said. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. My brow lifted as we entered the parlor. It was standing room only and Artemis sat in her chair, lording over all of the visitors. China teacups were everywhere I looked.
“Phones go in the basket,” a troll said. His chubby finger pointed to the floating wicker basket filled with phones.
“The sheriff and I will keep our phones,” I said. “Thank you, Jefferson.”
Artemis smiled at us. “What a pleasant surprise. I’ve had so many unexpected guests this weekend. It’s been splendid.”
So much for Florian letting the elderly witch know to expect trespassers. At least she took it in stride. I’d have reached for my wand if I’d spotted groups of paranormals swarming the land outside Rose Cottage. Of course, that wasn’t necessarily threatening. With my luck, I’d accidentally use a Big Bad Wolf spell and they’d spend the next hour trying to knock down my house while I raged ab
out the hair I forgot to tweeze on my chinny chin chin.
Artemis addressed the gamers. “Everyone, these are my friends, Ember Rose and Sheriff Nash.”
“Cool,” a young elf said. He didn’t look older than sixteen. “You’re a real sheriff?”
The werewolf tapped his badge. “The star doesn’t lie.”
I stifled a laugh.
“What’s that, Rose? Got a frog in your throat?”
I cleared my throat. “No, nothing. Sorry.”
“We’re looking for a wizard named Philip Muldoon and a gnome called Lewis,” the sheriff said. “Has anyone seen them?”
“I saw Lewis out back about twenty minutes ago,” the troll said. “He was trying to battle a dragon.”
“I gave up,” the elf said. “The dragon kept winning and I ran out of gold to buy more weapons.”
“Tea and biscuits are welcome alternatives to dragon killing, aren’t they, boys?” Artemis asked pleasantly. She reminded me of Wendy from Peter Pan, appeasing the Lost Boys.
Murmurs of asset followed her statement.
“Artemis is going to show me how to embroider a dragon,” another player said. “I want to hang it on my bedroom wall at home.”
I started to wonder if Artemis had bewitched these boys.
“If anyone sees Lewis or Philip, would you ask them to contact the sheriff’s office?” Sheriff Nash asked.
“Their user names are gardendelight and wilywizard10,” I added.
Sheriff Nash cut me a quick glance. “That’s actually useful information, Rose.”
I shrugged. “It’s been known to happen.”
“Artemis, do you mind if we walk the property to see if either of these gentlemen is roaming around?” the sheriff asked.
“By all means,” she said. “It’s practically a party out there. Tell anyone you see that I have plenty of tea and biscuits.”
“Her milkshake brings all the boys to the yard,” I whispered as we left the house.
“Her milkshake is about two hundred years old,” the sheriff said. “I think it’s probably curdled by now.”
We walked the length of the property and checked the woods behind the house. We crossed paths with plenty of players but no one had seen Philip or Lewis.
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