Ghoul's Paradise (Spellbound Ever After Paranormal Cozy Mystery Book 7) Page 7

  I patted her on the shoulder. “Thanks, but it was actually fine. I hate to say it, but sometimes she reminds me of a combination of you and Millie.”

  Laurel grimaced. “Should I be offended?”

  “Not at all. I only mean that you’re both very intelligent and like to learn. Once Avery calmed down, she was easy to work with.”

  “Glad to hear it.” Laurel glanced over her shoulder to the assembled witches now in the process of straddling their broomsticks for the ride home. “My group was great.”

  “That’s because you’re a natural leader,” I said. Laurel had future High Priestess written all over her spotty face. I couldn’t wait to see what she’d be capable of in a few more years.

  “Are you coming, Laurel?” one of them called.

  “I don’t suppose you want a ride,” Laurel said.

  I smiled. “You know me too well. I’m good, thanks.”

  I hurried through the woods and past the acres of farmland to where I’d parked Sigmund. I had just enough time to deliver the button to Astrid before my therapy session. I’d been hoping to squeeze in a quick snuggle with Diana. At this point, though, it would have to wait until after my appointment. She’d likely be napping anyway. That child could earn a gold medal in napping. With my tendency toward insomnia, I was more than a little jealous. Was it wrong to envy your daughter’s sleep schedule? Would I end up as one of those moms who coveted everything from her children’s youthfulness to their lack of responsibilities to their natural highlights?

  I found the Valkyrie sisters in Astrid’s office. They were shoulder-to-shoulder, their blond heads dipped over the desk as they reviewed the same file. Sometimes I had to remind myself that they weren’t twins.

  I dropped the leaf-wrapped button on her desk. “Not sure how helpful this is, but Laurel found it at the crime scene.”

  Sheriff Astrid looked at the button and nodded.

  “It’s from the loop on the back of the clown jacket,” Deputy Britta said. “We saw the loose threads but weren’t sure whether there’d been a button.”

  “It was stuck on a bramble patch along the path,” I said.

  “How close to where we found the body?” Deputy Britta asked.

  “Not far. A few feet.”

  “It could’ve fallen off during the scuffle,” the deputy said, looking at her sister for confirmation.

  “But were there signs of a scuffle?” I asked. “His clown…clothing was intact aside from the button. Nothing was torn. I didn’t even notice any dirt on it.”

  “There was dirt all over the back from where he’d fallen,” Britta said.

  “How many paranormals in town would be capable of overpowering the alpha of the werewolf pack?” I asked.

  “That’s assuming they knew the clown was Lorenzo,” Britta said.

  “Doesn’t matter. Lorenzo knew he was Lorenzo,” I said. “He could’ve shifted, or used brute strength to defend himself.”

  Britta snapped her fingers. “Unless he was taken by surprise.”

  “I’d say whoever stumbled upon a clown in the woods is the one taken by surprise.” And scarred for life.

  Sheriff Astrid wrote on a sheet of paper—only major wounds were from the branch in his chest and the back of his head where he hit it on the rock when he fell. No signs of a fight or even a struggle.

  An idea occurred to me. “Is there any chance he was dragged to the spot where we found him?”

  Sheriff Astrid shot me a quizzical look that mirrored her sister’s. “What makes you ask that?” Britta asked.

  “The button for one thing,” I said. “Maybe it got snagged on the thorns when his body was being dragged from the path.”

  The deputy rolled backward in her chair. “Whoa. You think he wasn’t killed there?” She made an explosive sound. “That’s the sound of my mind being blown, dude.”

  “I didn’t see any evidence of it, but that area is covered in moss and other stuff. It wouldn’t be obvious.” I frowned. “But if he were dragged there, then he couldn’t have hit his head on the rock.” I drummed my fingers thoughtfully on the desk.

  Sheriff Astrid scribbled a note and showed it to me—We’ll go back and inspect a wider area, including the path.

  “Good idea,” I said. “There’s been foot traffic on the path since then, but you might still be able to see signs of a body being dragged.” But how far and from where?

  “What if he was driven there and then carried part of the way?” Britta asked. “It’d be almost impossible to tell where he was actually killed.”

  “But we’d know he wasn’t killed there,” I said. “That’s a critical fact.” I smacked the desk. “And that explains why there wasn’t as much blood at the scene as we expected.”

  Their eyes rounded simultaneously. “Because he’d already bled somewhere else,” Britta said. “If we were related, I’d say you got all the brains and I got all the looks.”

  I straightened my shoulders, feeling proud of myself. “Thanks.” I was getting better at accepting compliments, however mixed, and not making excuses as though I didn’t deserve them. It didn’t come naturally to me, but I was making a concerted effort.

  “We can check for tire tracks and footprints on the path,” Britta said.

  I angled my head toward the button. “And check that for prints too. Laurel didn’t touch it and she’s the one that found it.” It was unlikely the button from the back of the jacket would yield a print, but it was worth a try. If Lorenzo had been carried, the killer’s fingers may have touched the button long enough to leave a print. The killer would also have to be remarkably strong or have had help because the werewolf was made of solid muscle.

  “I guess it’s a good thing I told the witches they could perform the spell there,” Britta said, “so really it’s like I found the clue.”

  “It might also explain why they didn’t feel really bad energy there,” I said. “It would feel far worse at the spot where the murder was committed.” I hesitated. “Although the clown outfit alone should’ve left a haze of dark energy.” I was surprised the sight of it hadn’t yet given me nightmares.

  “You haven’t mentioned the clown thing to anyone, have you?” Britta asked.

  I recoiled. “Spell’s bells, no. I try not to remember it myself, let alone reinforce it by talking about it.”

  “Astrid and I think we should keep that part quiet, even when we question suspects. It just seems like a deeply uncool thing to reveal about the guy, you know? He was always so dignified.”

  “They won’t hear it from me.” I crossed my heart, but stopped at hoping to die. I was only willing to go so far in order to protect Lorenzo’s reputation. “But you have to remember that Jeremiah found him. I’m sure he knows by now the dead clown he found was his alpha.”

  “Yeah, good point.” Britta scratched her head. “I guess we just don’t make a big deal out of it. Astrid and I searched his place, but we didn’t find any more clown gear. He must’ve only had the one outfit.”

  “And he kept it well-hidden, I’m sure,” I said. “Although it would be nice to know why he was wearing it in the woods.” The only reasons I could think of involved a serial killer or a Stephen King novel, neither of which seemed appropriate for Lorenzo Mancini. He was cold and ruthless, but not in a murderous way.

  Sheriff Astrid scribbled something else on the paper and turned it toward me so I could read it.

  “We need to talk to a werewolf called Travis Brent,” I read aloud. “Why?”

  Britta pressed the heel of her palm against her forehead. “Oh, yeah. I totally forgot. One of the servers at The Spotted Owl said that she saw Travis and Lorenzo arguing.”

  “About what?” I asked.

  Britta shook her head. “No idea.”

  “You haven’t spoken with him yet?” I asked.

  “No, that’s tomorrow,” Britta said. “We need to talk to the pack secretary too and confirm Alex’s story about the meeting with Lorenzo. We just want to do
it when no one’s around from the pack to eavesdrop.”

  “I can help with that,” I said.

  Britta and Astrid exchanged glances. “Would you mind?” Britta asked. “I have a huge list that keeps getting longer.”

  “I know the feeling.”

  “Layla goes to the gym every day at the same time,” Britta said. “That’s the best place to question her without anyone around.”

  “The gym isn’t far from Dr. Hall’s office. I can definitely swing by and speak to her.”

  “Great. You’re awesome. We want to finish reviewing the notes on the body and then Paisley’s going to have another crack at reversing the spell.”

  My head snapped to attention. “Is that wise?”

  Sheriff Astrid shook her head and gave the thumbs down.

  “You haven’t been able to do it and we’ve obviously got an urgent situation,” Britta said.

  Guilt spread through my veins. “I’m so sorry. I promise I’ll start researching after my therapy session today.” I would’ve done it at the academy earlier, but I didn’t want anyone to notice. Witches had a habit of being extremely nosy.

  “It’s cool,” Britta said. “We know you’re busy. It’s just that you’re the only one we trust with this.”

  We’ve been managing, the sheriff wrote on the paper. Thanks for your help.

  I gave Astrid a sympathetic look. “I’m really sorry. I know this is awful for you.”

  She opened her mouth and promptly sneezed. Britta handed her a tissue without even looking at her. They’d clearly done this dozens of times by now.

  “Paisley and I learned our lesson,” Britta said. “We won’t mess around with magic again, not to use on my sister anyway.”

  I shifted uneasily. “What if you screw up the reversal and make it worse?”

  Britta puckered her lips, considering the possibility. “I guess we can leave it be until you have a chance to figure it out.”

  “I’d like to ask Laurel to help, but I know you probably would rather I don’t.”

  Sheriff Astrid gave a firm shake of her head, leaving no room for doubt.

  “You can do this without the coven’s help,” Britta said. “I know you can.”

  Inwardly, I sighed. “Okay, I’ll get to it as soon as I can.”

  I was glad the Valkyrie had faith in me because I wasn’t so sure.

  Chapter Eight

  “In the name of all that is bad and unholy, please tell me that you’re back on the sauce.” Dr. Catherine Hall, my vampire therapist, stood behind the bar with an empty glass in her hand. It was clear to me that she was anxious to fill it with some kind of colorful cocktail.

  “I’m not breast-feeding anymore, so feel free to mix away.”

  Dr. Hall peered down her nose at me. “What happened? I thought you were completely on board with having magical boobs.”

  Instinctively, I glanced down at my chest. “I know they say it’s the most natural thing in the world, but I truly believe that not all bodies are designed for breast-feeding. If this had been the Middle Ages, the baby and I would have starved to death.” The thought was unsettling.

  “Minotaur shit,” Dr. Hall said. “Why do you think there were wet nurses? Not all women could feed naturally then either, so they hired another lactating woman to nurse the child or they used goat’s milk.”

  I shot her a quizzical look. “Really? I didn’t know that.”

  The vampire shook liquid in a metal container from side to side. “I’ve seen the stats for your school system. There’s a lot you don’t know, so you can stop beating yourself up over something you can’t control.” She emptied the contents of the shaker into a glass and added a wedge of lemon for good measure. “On the other hand, feel free to beat yourself up over that ugly necklace because jewelry you can control.”

  I glanced down at the amulet, now back around my neck. “We made it at the academy. It’s meant to draw in positive energy and ward off darkness.”

  She threw her head back and laughed. “Then why am I still standing? That thing should’ve dwarf-tossed me across the room by now.”

  “That’s not how it works and you shouldn’t make jokes about tossing dwarfs. It isn’t nice.”

  “Nice is for weenies. Speaking of weenies, talk to me about the old man. How’s that whole ordeal coming along?” She emerged from behind the bar and handed me the glass.

  “I assume by ‘the old man’ you mean my father.” I took a hesitant sip of the cocktail, fully prepared to be knocked on the floor by its strength. It had been so long since I’d indulged and Dr. Hall was notorious for overloading the drinks with alcohol. I was pleasantly surprised by the fruity taste. “What is this?”

  “Fruit of the Womb,” she said and took her usual place on the sofa on the other side of the coffee table.

  I cringed and wished I could spit my mouthful back into the glass. “What’s it made of?”

  “Relax. I named it in your honor. I put lots of fruit flavors in it to hide the taste of the alcohol since I know you can’t handle booze.”

  “I can handle booze just fine, thank you.” I studied the blend of colors in the glass. “You’re sure there’s nothing…suspect in here?”

  “No blood, if that’s what you’re worried about.” She smiled, revealing her fangs. “Or placenta.”

  I stared at her for a beat before reassuring myself it was safe to drink. “Things seem to be going well with my father for the most part. He’s being respectful of my boundaries and he seems to genuinely enjoy spending time with Diana and me.”

  “He’s being respectful?”

  I didn’t care for her tone. “Why do you say it like that?”

  She shrugged nonchalantly. “He’s a demigod. He doesn’t strike me as someone who would respect boundaries.”

  “I mean, he seems intent on making himself the most important paranormal in my life, but that’s only because he doesn’t have anyone else.”

  She aimed a finger at me. “Aha! That’s what I’m talking about. Not so respectful.”

  I sighed. “He’s trying. This is all new to us. To both of us. If I weren’t so busy, I could focus more on our relationship, but the timing isn’t great.”

  “If you’re going to start a whole spiel about the pitfalls of modern motherhood, then I need liquid courage.” The vampire returned to the bar to fix herself a drink. She firmly believed that no one should drink alone, even during her sessions.

  “I’m not going off on a tangent.”

  She ignored me and hit the button on her blender. “He sounds too good to be true, if you ask me,” she yelled over the roar of the appliance.

  “I didn’t. You asked me."

  She stopped the blender and poured the thick pink contents into a tall glass. “A minor detail. How about Lorenzo? What do you think happened to him?”

  I observed her over the rim of my glass. “I’m not here to gossip about official police matters. This is supposed to be my therapy session.”

  Dr. Hall grimaced. “Such a narcissist. Why does everything always have to be about you?”

  I closed my eyes and counted to ten in my head. “Because this is my therapy session. That is the entire point of me being here—to talk about myself.”

  She shook her head, as though disappointed. “It’s so clear that you were an only child.” She tossed a garnishing sprig on top of her drink. “Finish that one up because I have a recipe for watermelon margaritas that I want to try. I’ve been on a margarita kick lately and I’ve decided that you should be my lab rat.”

  I wasn’t sure I liked the sound of that. “I’m probably not the best person given that I’ve been off alcohol for so long.”

  She shrugged. “Quite frankly, you’re never the best person, but you’re here. Any fresh body will do.”

  I flashed a smile. “Gee, you really know how to make a girl feel special.”

  “That’s your issue, isn’t it? You spent your entire life not feeling special and then—bam—sudd
enly you’re the most special resident in the whole town.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “What are you getting at?”

  “I’m not getting at anything. I’m just picking on you. It’s what I do.”

  “You’re the older sister I never wanted.”

  She slurped her thick drink. “How’s Daniel handling everything?”

  I met her gaze. “Define everything.”

  “You know. A new baby. Wife is going back to work. Wife’s demigod father shows up out of nowhere. Sharing a house with a vampire ghost with OCD tendencies.”

  My heart stuttered at the thought of my wonderful husband. “Daniel is a superstar.”

  “So he throws tantrums and destroys furniture that doesn’t belong to him? Sounds about right.”

  “That’s a rockstar. I mean it, I couldn’t have created someone as perfect for me as he is. He’s like a wish come true that I didn’t even know I was making.”

  “Now there’s a thought,” Dr. Hall said. “Do you think you could create someone? Is your magic that powerful?”

  I gaped at her. “I’m not Dr. Frankenstein. I wasn’t being literal.”

  She waved a hand. “Sure, sure, but what do you think? Could you?”

  “What would you even want me to make?” I asked. “You and Lord Gilder are happy, right?”

  She gave me a hard look. “Does happy look like an emotion in my repertoire?”

  “Well, you’re not unhappy.” I shook my head. “I think we should focus on something else. I’m not in the market to create a friend for you. Ever.”

  The vampire scowled. “Spoilsport.” She downed her drink in a final gulp. “How about your current state of mind? I have to imagine that you’re struggling somewhat.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Because you’re Emma. That’s what makes me say that. You worry about everything, so I have to imagine that you’re obsessing over whether returning to work is going to do irreparable damage to your child. Whether feeding her honey before she’s a year old is going to give her botulism. There’s an endless list. I don’t think I need to articulate every single fear.”

  “Definitely not.” That would be enough to give me nightmares for the next month. “I’m doing my best. Josie is being a little bit difficult at the office, but hopefully she’ll mellow once we get into more of a routine.”