Enchanted Execution Page 8

  “Sure.”

  “I’ll meet you there.”

  “Wait. Do you want me to talk to … her?”

  “Hush! Did you forget where you are? There is recording. Even now. Especially now. You are supposed to be award-winning lawyer, no? Don’t tell me all those stars on your website mean nothing. Go.”

  The conversation ends.

  “Well, shit,” Bennett curses.

  “Zahré mar!” I agree, glad for once that Seena’s vocab lesson can apply in context.

  “What?”

  “Never mind. Why are you upset?”

  “It sounded like the lawyer was gonna mention Cookie. The Crypts.”

  “You got all that from the word ‘her?’” I raise an eyebrow.

  Bennett shrugs. “Maybe. Got cut off too early to tell. But ties between the leader of the Crypts and a City Councilor. That would be bad.”

  “Yes, well unless Cookie Garcia legally changes her name to ‘her’ I think you’ll have a hard time proving who they were talking about. Besides, what does any of that have to do with Bernard Bell falling over dead?”

  “Nothing. Yet.”

  Chapter 11

  Bennett takes off with Giancarlo’s assistant and secretary to question the ‘real’ suspects.

  Seena and I get stuck shadowing Flowers, who questions the remaining witnesses. For the next six hours. This includes Tabby and Sarah. Who absolutely should never ever be present at a murder scene again. Ever.

  “Oh my goodness! That wife was a piece of work, wasn’t she? I can’t believe she did it!” Sarah exclaims.

  Tabby has gone to the bathroom and shifted. She wears a spare set of workout clothes (from one of the female shifter investigators) and is practically swimming in the t-shirt. “Birds are mostly evil creatures.” She shrugs, as if that’s a statement of fact.

  To my surprise, Sarah nods in agreement. “I’ve been to that ole’ bath a’ theirs. Those biddies have their beaks stuck up so high, they’ll be drowning in a rainstorm.”

  For Sarah to say it, it must be true.

  Flowers simply sighs. He’s not as tactful as Bennett about keeping witnesses on point. “Did you see anything actually related to the murder?”

  “Other than her attempt to murder me with her purse?” Tabby pushes her thick glasses up her nose until her eyes look twice their normal size. “I didn’t hear anyone ask me yet if I want to press charges, by the way. The answer is yes.”

  Crap.

  Flowers leaves me filling out paperwork for Tabby’s charges, which I’m pretty sure the D.A. is just gonna drop. But there’s no way I’m going to argue with her. Especially not once Max the Cat casually strolls over and listens in.

  He washes an ear as I fill out ancient triplicate forms with Tabby’s information. I do a double-take when she tells me her age, but then she lets me know she’s on her sixth life. So, yeah. Four hundred twenty years isn’t so crazy.

  “So, Councilor,” Sarah Snow looks delighted at the high-ranking company. “I’m sure that this isn’t the most scandalous thing you’ve ever seen, but I’m surely gonna have daymares when I go to bed.”

  “Oh, I dunno,” Max comments. “The swamp-thing protests back in the eighties were pretty terrible. Slime everywhere. But social media is turning this into a big to-do.”

  I look at him. “Wait. How are you getting social media updates?”

  He rolls his eyes at me and his whiskers twitch in disdain. “Earbuds.”

  “You had earbuds in during a televised announcement?” I would have thought the announcement of a new City Council member would rank work higher than that.

  But Tabby laughs. “Yarn Cup fan?”

  “Of course.”

  “What team are you rooting for?”

  “Croatia.”

  “Those cats don’t stand a chance. Not with what France pays to recruit.”

  “France is insane. Anyone can unroll a ball of yarn.” Max snaps.

  “I heard they get a lifetime supply of M&Ms.”

  “M&M’s?” Sarah asks.

  “Mice & Men. All organic. Posh cat food,” Tabby waves a hand.

  “Are men an ingredient?”

  I interrupt, because I see this conversation is quickly going off the rails. “Sorry. But what was it about social media and this murder?”

  Max turns his eyes to me and his pupils narrow. “Oh, it’s everywhere. There are already a hundred different suspects. And a cool name too. ‘The City Council Killer.’” He tosses on a dramatic tone for effect.

  Sarah raises her hand to her heart. “Now that sounds like a serial killer name.”

  “Yup. That’s what the press is hinting at. That we’re next.”

  Tabby and Sarah’s eyes pop in horror. Mine pop for a different reason.

  I look over at Jackie, who’s innocently tapping away at her phone. Just like twenty other people around the room.

  “Scat!” Bennett didn’t deal with the press before he left. I stand up. “One sec, guys. I’ll be back.”

  I jog over to Jackie and grab her phone. “Excuse me. I think this might be evidence. FLORES!” I bellow.

  He comes over and I show him Jackie’s Frightbook posts, which have already gone viral. Of course, she’s the one who’s come up with the name City Council Killer and insinuated this might be the work of a serial killer.

  Flores utters some choice words before radioing Bennett.

  Jackie gets put in ‘time out’ in the corner without her phone as we wait for our fearless leader to return and feed a line of B.S. to the press to end this craziness.

  I go back to finish Tabby’s paperwork and interrupt a full-on argument between Tabby and Max over Yarn Cup players.

  “He’s the best we’ve seen since 1873! He’s like Grotowski reincarnate!”

  “He’s not! He’s got a total tell! His tail twitches left each time he—”

  “Hi! Friendly D.A. investigator returning to do her job. We were in the middle of filing assault charges, right?”

  “Attempted murder,” Tabby corrects me. “You did put attempted murder right?”

  “Well, the D.A. will have to decide whether a purse is considered a deadly weapon—”

  “Oh, it is,” Max says darkly.

  I do not wanna know. I just add ‘attempted murder’ to the list and hope this doesn’t end up on JR’s desk.

  Ten minutes and two more interrupted Yarn Cup arguments later, Bennett arrives.

  Immediately, Tabby stops to swoon. “Dragon man’s back.”

  Sarah tosses an arm around my shoulders. “She’s not interested. She’s going out with sweet Luke now.”

  “Luke? Luke Hawkins?” Max asks as Bennett walks up.

  “Yes, he asked her out just before the press conference started. It was so sweet,” Sarah responds.

  I feel a hand on my shoulder and look up. A very angry Bennett French stares down at me. A thread of panic weaves through my stomach. Did he hear that bit about Luke asking me out?

  His eyes burn into mine. I’m pretty sure the answer is yes.

  “Luke Hawkins was here?”

  Sarah does not pick up on the tension, though Max and and Tabby’s necks twist to face me, then Bennett, then look back again. Like they’re watching the ball of wool swivel between players in the Yarn Cup.

  I can see the flames in Bennett’s eyes. My mouth dries out. I can’t answer.

  “Yes, he dropped Tabby and I off before he had to scoot on down to work,” Sarah answers.

  “Really?” Ben raises his eyebrows. His tone is conversational but his eyes … His eyes burn a hole through me. I do not want to be alone in a room with him right now.

  “Excuse us,” Ben grabs my upper arm and hauls me to a deserted hall.

  “What the fuck!?” he snarls.

  I shrink back.

  “Did you break it off with me so you could get together with him?”

  “No!” That is such B.S. “I didn’t want to break up with you at all! I just want
ed space.”

  He clenches his fists and forces himself to take a deep breath. “What the hell, Lyon? Explain. Please.”

  “He just offered to help me with my powers. I suck. Okay? I suck. I’m bottom of the class. Like every day. And I just—”

  “Why didn’t you ask me for help?” He’s gone soft. Gentle. His hand touches my shoulder.

  “Because nothing’s changed. It’s like I said. I want to see if I’m good at this.”

  “You were amazing today.”

  I shake my head. “That’s a one-off. I need to do it.”

  His voice hardens. “So, you’ll let him help you but not me?”

  “You broke up with me!”

  “I did not!”

  “Yes,” I can’t hide the tremor in my voice any longer. “When you came to the gym the other day. You said six months was …” I have trouble even saying the words. It makes my chest hurt. Get tight. Like really tight. Like tourniquet cutting off the blood flow tight. My hands come up. I curl in on myself. I can’t help it. It’s physical pain so bad my body just reacts. I swallow a sob.

  “God, Ly. No. I didn’t mean that. I didn’t mean … you’ve thought this for days?”

  I manage a nod.

  “You didn’t fight me over it.”

  I shake my head. “It wouldn’t be fair. To make you wait.”

  His eyes are full of tears. I think. Mine are so full of tears it’s hard to tell. Everything’s blurry.

  Silence stretches between us. Long and jagged, like a sword, cutting through whatever connection we’ve had.

  He doesn’t argue. I half want him to argue, like he has been. To bug me about it. To give me some sign that we’re getting back together. He doesn’t.

  Finally, he pinches the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “Luke Hawkins was here.” His tone is dead, matter of fact.

  I nod.

  “He was here shortly before the murder. But left before it happened.”

  I nod again.

  “So he had opportunity.”

  My head jerks up. But before I can say anything, Bennett’s gone.

  Did he just accuse Luke of murder?

  Chapter 12

  Does it matter that I worked until 7:30 in the frickin’ morning?

  Not to JR, who’s standing inside my apartment and yanks open my door when I drag my exhausted butt home.

  Does she care that I have to be at the Academy at five p.m.? She does not.

  Why?

  “My cousin just added a theme to her wedding. A theme, Lyon!” She looks ready to punch me. If it means she’ll let me pass out, I’m tempted to let her.

  I eye her dully, trying not to doze where I stand. “What’s the theme?”

  “Lovebirds. Some stupid celebrity in L.A. had a theme wedding. And she just has to have the same. Now, we have to come up with decorations with white feathers and twinkle lights and branches.”

  I nod as I fumble with my key. I think there must be a disconnect between my ears and my brain right now because I say, “That’s nice.”

  “Nice! Nice! How the hell am I supposed to change the decorations that fast?”

  “Yoo-hoo? Is that you JR?” Mrs. Snow comes up the stairs. Her hair is in the kind of pink foam curlers I haven’t seen in a decade. She’s wearing a flower-patterned robe.

  JR bites her lip, “I’m so sorry I woke you up.”

  Mrs. Snow waves a hand dismissively. “Like I could sleep with all that chaos last night. It’s just been on repeat in my brain.”

  “Chaos?”

  “Oh, honey, didn’t Lyon tell you? Tabby and I were there for the murder!” She says this like she was there for the birth of a child, or some other triumphant event. She sweeps past me and turns on the lights in my living room. She takes a seat on my purple velvet couch. “Got any tea?”

  So, I guess this means I’m not getting to sleep any time soon. I rub a hand over my face and start searching my cabinets while JR and Mrs. Snow prattle on. I find the tea, get the water on the stove, and then lean my forehead against the fridge for just a sec …

  The whistle of the tea kettle startles me awake and I bonk my head against the fridge.

  “Crab-cakes!”

  I rub my forehead as I get out cups and pour water into them, giving each woman a teabag. Mrs. Snow gets some orange-cranberry nastiness and JR gets lavender. I hope it calms her down, but from the pitch of her voice, that’s gonna take a while.

  “Insane! I tell you!”

  “Oh sweetie, I wish I had that pause potion for you. But I had to use it today to save that girl’s life,” Mrs. Snow’s voice swells with self-importance as I hand her teacup over. “I’ll try and get another one brewed to give you more time, but I just don’t know if it’ll be done before you need it. Some of those ingredients are on backorder.”

  JR sighs and sinks into her chair, “Thanks anyway.”

  “But I do have some suggestions. First off, centerpieces. We just take those flowers we already planned and toss a white birdcage over them. Easy-peasy. Change that cookie order from Wendel’s so that those are bird-shaped sugar cookies. For some atmosphere, you can have some different wings for the guests to try on and take photos in. Kind of a half-bird shifter idea. Might look more like those human angels, but still, not too bad right? The girls and I could sew a couple a’ those for you.”

  JR is tearing up. She grabs Mrs. Snow’s hand. “I don’t know what I’d do without you. You’re a genius.”

  Mrs. Snow shakes her head, but she blushes and pats JR’s hand in thanks before she takes a sip of tea. “As for the room itself, I once attended a party with little origami birds suspended from the ceiling. I think you could order those online real easy from some human store.”

  “I’ll go grab my laptop. It’s in my bedroom,” I offer the sole help I can.

  After wading through the laundry and naughty paperbacks strewn across my floor, I find my laptop. But the battery is dead. I toss it on the charger. I figure it will only need a few minutes … I sit next to it on the bed.

  Next thing I know, the sun is shining on my face. JR, that evil hag, has pulled up my blinds.

  “Nooky!” I shield my eyes with my arms.

  “Good morning, Princess.”

  I hiss, turning away from the light. “What time is it?”

  “Nine. We let you sleep as long as possible. But, I’m leaving, and I figured you’d want to be able to lock your door.”

  “What happened to your key?” I grumble into my sheets.

  “It’s enchanted.”

  I roll over and raise an eyebrow at her. “What?”

  “It only works when I want it to.”

  I throw a pillow at her and she ducks out the door, laughing.

  I moan and whine. Then I stretch and follow her to the living room.

  Mrs. Snow is already by the door. She smiles at me. “You go on back to bed and get yourself some more sleep, sugar. I don’t envy you. That murder business is nasty. You need your wits if you’re gonna be hanging around folks like that pixie or Gor.”

  I yawn as I open the door and hold it open for them. “I will. Sorry I fell asleep.”

  JR pats my arm. “Don’t worry. You’ll get to help me tonight.”

  I’m too tired to even think of a retort. I just lock the door, set an alarm on my phone and collapse back in bed.

  I sit straight up in bed, panicked. Then I smack my phone. Stupid werewolf howl alarm. It’s the only way to get my sorry butt out of bed at four p.m. I turn the evil thing off and notice a number of text messages from Jacob. He’s heard about the murder—Channel Thirteen is airing the story nationwide—and wants a phone call ASAP. Great. My pseudo-dad is worried.

  I do the morning ablutions thing and then dial Jacob’s number while I make coffee. Shockingly enough, he answers.

  “What are you doing up?” I yawn.

  “Time change. It’s 6:00 here,” Jacob answers. “About to climb in a boat to go fishing with the guys.”
>
  “Are you wearing a dumb fishing hat?” I picture his salt and pepper hair stuffed under one of those fashion nightmares covered in feathery hooks.

  “Fishing hats are not dumb, young lady. And I didn’t call to talk about me. How’re you?”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay doesn’t really mean okay, you know.”

  “I know.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  So, I curl up on the couch with my coffee cup and spill my heart to Jacob. I tell him about meanie-head Flowers. And about the job, as much as I can tell about an open murder investigation.

  “You know you need to be careful around Gor, right?”

  “The goblin? He just got the Councilor job.”

  Jacob swears on the other line. “I want you to stay away from him, okay? He’s shady.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Saffron had some cases with him back in the day. Nothing came of it, but I don’t trust him.”

  “Cases? What kind of cases?”

  “Some of his associates went missing.”

  “Were they ever found?”

  “Nope.”

  “Must not have been enough evidence to tie him to it.”

  “He got off, I know that.”

  “Well, whoever did this left some physical evidence, so there should be a trail.”

  “If it starts to lead to him, I want you to turn the other way.”

  “You do know that I’m working on becoming an investigator, right? I literally am supposed to follow the trail.”

  He growls. “Dammit, Lyon. Just be safe.”

  “Now you sound like Bennett.”

  “How’s my future son-in-law?”

  This prompts a half hour conversation, since Jacob hasn’t heard about the breakup. I talk about Bennett’s butthead antics. The upcoming study date with Luke. The fact that Bennett wants to accuse Luke of murder at every turn.

  “He’s jealous, you know. Threatened.”

  I sigh. “Why can’t it just be awesome and amazing to have a love triangle? Like in all the movies?”

  “Because you end up hurting someone, sweetheart. And you have a heart of gold. Potty mouth. But a heart of gold.”