Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

The rain was still pouring when we left the building, beating a steady rhythm on the pavement. I said goodnight to the others and jogged to my Jeep, covering my head with my backpack as I hurried to open the door and duck inside. I sat there for a moment, watching my breath flow out in front of my face, then turned the ignition and waited for the engine to heat up. I turned up the heat and rubbed my hands. It was time to dig out my gloves from the dresser.

I pulled out my phone and texted Penn. hey, where do you want to meet for dinner? i’m done with work.

I waited for a moment and Penelope texted back. what about garden’s steakhouse? i wouldn’t mind a meat-and-potatoes meal tonight. it’s not far from where you work.

sounds good to me. i’ll meet you there , I texted. Then, plugging my phone into the voice-activation system, I fastened my seatbelt and pulled out of the parking lot.

The drive to the Garden’s Steakhouse wasn’t far in terms of distance, but rush hour traffic turned a fifteen-minute drive into a thirty-five minute drive. Luckily, Penn faced the same dilemma, and we arrived in the restaurant parking lot within five minutes of each other. She saw my car and eased into the spot next to mine.

Penelope Fircrest drove a Toyota Camry, and she owned a magical shop, selling herbs and oils and soaps and spell components. She was what I’d call a pretty woman—not stunning as in drop-dead gorgeous, but truly pretty. Her Fae blood came out in her eyes, and her connection with nature. Her human side came out in her temperament and her ample curves. Most Fae were willowy, though strong, but Penn was plump and curvy. Her father had vanished the moment Eileen, her mother, got pregnant, and when Eileen went to the Fae for help, they rebuffed her, denying Penn’s existence. So Penelope had grown up among humans and other Supes.

Penn was as short as I was tall. She was five-three, probably a size fourteen with an hourglass figure, and she had green eyes and wavy auburn hair that she wore in a long ponytail. She wore fun clothes that were retro in style, chunky-heel sexy librarian shoes, and cat-eye oversized glasses. Today, she was wearing a blue polka dot swing dress with a sweetheart neckline, she had on white tea gloves, and a matching fascinator decorated with a pouf of tuille and a white rose.

“Penn!” I leaned in to kiss her cheek.

She returned the kiss. Her lip lacquer didn’t transfer or I’d have a sparkling blue pair of lip prints on my cheek. “I am so ready for dinner,” she said. “It’s been a long day.”

We headed into Garden’s Steakhouse. The décor was like any chain-steakhouse, with a bar, ambient seating in a mix of booths and tables, enough plants to make it feel cheery, and the sizzling smell of beef that permeated the air.

Penn stepped up to the hostess. The restaurant was crowded, but she had made reservations.

“Two, under the name of Penelope Fircrest,” she told the hostess.

The young woman led us to a booth in the back, and as we slid in, handed us menus. “Would you like to start with drinks?”

“I’d like a strawberry daiquiri,” Penn said.

“A screwdriver for me,” I said.

The waitress left us with the menus and headed off to the bar to place our drink order. As she left, I relaxed into the back of the booth.

“It’s been a long day,” Penn said, doing the same. “Apparently, word hasn’t gotten around to some members of the Fae community that I own Moonbeams & Meadows, and a member of the Summer Court came in to buy some mandrake oil today. She didn’t notice me at first, but when she came up to the pay for it at the counter, she took one look at me, snarled Fucking half-breed, and threw the vial on the counter, breaking it, before she flounced out of the shop.”

I winced. “I’m sorry,” I said. “Goddamn bigots.” I paused as the waitress brought our drinks. “We need a little more time to decide,” I said.

She set a basket of breadsticks on our table, then smiled and left to wait on a nearby table.

“Yeah,” Penn said, trying to smile. But I knew that the asshole had hurt her feelings. “Not only that, but I make that mandrake oil and it costs me sixty bucks a vial to produce. So that’s a tidy little loss there, not to mention my shop reeks now. It splashed on the carpet. I’m going to have to rent a shampooer.” She stared at the table, a distressed look on her face. I could tell something else was bothering her.

“What else is wrong?”

“You sure you want to hear? I’m a regular Cathy Cheerful here today.”

“Tell me,” I coaxed. “You’re my best friend. I want to know what’s wrong.”

Penn sighed. “All right,” she said, setting her drink down. “I have to find a place to live. The landlord’s raising my rent again with the new lease. And since the shop isn’t doing so hot, I can’t afford the increase. You know what rent’s like in Seattle. I need to move before next month. I’ve already given notice that I won’t be renewing the lease.”

I played with my glass. I knew that Penn brought in a decent amount each month, but she was right—rent was exploding, the housing market was tight, and it was hard to find a reasonably priced place to live. But I already knew what I was going to do.

“I have a spare room,” I said. “You can stay with me for as long as you need to.” I owned my own house, a three-bedroom rambler that I bought at a lull in the market a few years back. It was already worth half again as much as I bought it for.

Penn worried her lip. “Are you sure? I love your house, but I don’t want to put you out.”

“Of course you’re going to move in. We can put what furniture you have that there isn’t any room for into storage. But the family room is pretty bare, so if you want to put your living room furniture there, that’s fine. As long as you don’t mind Jangles prancing on it.” I used one of the spare bedrooms for a workout room, but my guest room seldom saw use.

“How much do you want for rent? I’m paying fifteen-seventy-five right now.”

I knew that Penn would never go for me letting her stay for free, even though I’d paid cash for the house, using up most of my savings. But it was mine, free and clear, except for the property taxes. “Tell you what, let’s say six hundred a month, plus half of the utilities.”

Penn took a sip of her daquiri. “You’re kidding me. That’s less than half what I pay now.”

“Then this will allow you to start saving money,” I said. “You know I own the house, so hey, six hundred’s gravy for me. We can start moving you in this weekend. So, no more worries over that.” I actually found myself looking forward to it. The house had felt rather empty ever since I bought it, and Penn and I were as close as sisters.

“Thanks, chica. I really, really appreciate it.” She sighed. “That means I can order more than a salad.”

“No, it’s my turn to pay for dinner. You can pay for takeout on movie night.” I paused as the waitress returned. “Okay, what do we want for appetizers? I’ll have the calamari,” I said. “What do you want? We can share both.”

“Mozzarella sticks, please,” Penn said.

“And have you decided on your entrees yet?”

I glanced over the menu. “I think I’ll have spaghetti and meatballs. What about you, Penn?”

Penn handed the waitress her menu. “Chicken parm, please, with fettuccini Alfredo.”

As the waitress wrote down our orders, then left, Penn relaxed.

“I’m so relieved. I’ve been so worried. He sprung this on me about a week ago, and I’ve been crunching numbers, trying to figure out a way to make it work. But he’s upping the rent to twenty-one hundred a month and I can’t do that.”

“Hey, we should have thought of this before,” I said. “But it is what it is. I’m looking forward to having you move in. The house is large, and it feels empty with only me and Jangles there. Anyway, about the bitch who broke the mandrake oil—can you send her a bill for the cleaning?”

Penn shook her head. “No, I don’t even know her name. But I’ll tell you this: I’m instituting a you-break-it-you-buy-it policy from now on. So, how was your day?”

I told her what I could about the new case. We kept most things confidential, but I could give her a rundown on what we were facing, overall.

“The principal, huh? I wonder who they’re going to find to replace her. That might be one avenue to investigate—someone looking to create a vacancy, you know.” Penn stopped as the waitress brought our appetizers, and we moved on to discussing our favorite reality shows and I told her about Analida’s party, and the rest of the evening went by without incident.

Next morning, I woke early. At first, I wasn’t sure what had startled me out of my sleep, then noticed that Jangles was puking on my bedspread. Long hair cats were full of hairballs, it seemed, and I waited till she was done and then grabbed a paper towel and cleaned it up, then sponged it clean.

“Thank you, goober,” I said, ruffling her fur. “Is that a hint that you don’t like your food?” I opened my dresser drawer. In minutes I had slid into a pair of jeans and fastened my bra, then pulled on a tank top. I put on my socks and boots, then slapped on my makeup, braided my hair back, and headed for the kitchen, Jangles following me. I turned on the espresso machine to heat, then opened a can of cat food and set the bowl down.

“Here you go, eat up, floof monster.” I rinsed out the can and put it in the recycling, then pulled four shots of espresso and added milk and chocolate syrup, stirring it to make a mocha. Given I had extra time thanks to Jangles’s hairball waking me early, I decided to make myself some eggs and toast. I scrambled up three eggs, then buttered two pieces of toast.

Finally, I sat at the counter on one of the stools and ate. Jangles jumped up to engage my attention and I managed to pet her while keeping her out of my plate. I glanced at my text messages, but there were no new notifications, so I slapped a lid on my travel mug, slid into my jacket, and—after kissing Jangles on the head—I headed out the door.

I got to the office by eight-thirty, and to my surprise, Dante was already there. I stopped at the main desk to talk to Sophia.

“Anything new this morning?” I asked.

“We have a message from a woman who wants us to investigate her boyfriend’s past. She thinks he’s hiding something, but he refuses to talk about himself,” she said, going through her notes. “And there’s another call from the Shifter Community Action Council. Their offices were targeted by a vandal last night and they think it’s a hate crime, but the cops didn’t have the time to do more than take a report.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” I said. “They’re always overworked. Anything else?”

“Yes, another message from someone wants us to investigate a theft. The man didn’t leave much of a message. I was getting ready to call all of them back.” She handed me the mail, which she had already opened and sorted.

I thumbed through it, scanning the contents. Sophia was responsible for paying the bills—I just signed the checks. She also gave me a report of monies collected from clients. The letters in my hand were reports, information, and other communications regarding cases we were working or already had worked.

“Schedule the SCAC representative right away. The other two, go ahead and make preliminary appointments so we can assess whether we can help them. Dante and I will be out of the office from 9:30 this morning till…I figure, possibly noon. So don’t schedule any appointments this afternoon until after 1:30.” I picked up my purse and backpack. “I’ll be in my office. Dante, follow?” As he swung in behind me, I turned back to Sophia. “Also, isn’t it time to schedule maintenance on the elevator? Contact the building owner, if you would.”

“Already on it,” she said as I headed toward my office, Dante in tow.

We entered my office and I tossed the mail on my desk, then hung up my jacket and backpack. I opened the blinds and glanced out into the alley. It was pouring again, which was typical for this time of year.

“How was your night?” Dante asked, dropping into one of the arm chairs opposite my desk. He was dressed relatively normally today, in tight white jeans, a gold sparkling shirt, and cowboy boots.

“Good,” I said. “Penn and I had a good time. Oh,” I added, glancing over at him. “She’s moving in with me!”

“What?” Dante straightened up. “I didn’t know you were looking for a roommate.”

“I wasn’t, but she needs to move, I have space, and I must admit, the idea of having somebody else in the house—especially a great friend—really appeals to me. You want to help us this weekend? We can make it a party.”

He snorted. “I hate moving, but for you and Penn? Sure. I’m in, though I have to leave at six. Hot date, you know.”

I rolled my eyes.

As I’d said, ever since I’d known Dante, he’d gone through one disastrous date after another. I’d rescued him more than once from some psycho bitch who had gotten hung up on him. Dante was a freak magnet, and he ended up attracting all the wrong women. Once, I’d had to save him from a woman who had a meltdown when she realized he thought they were just fuckbuddies. She’d cornered him in a closet with a massive cleaver.

Another time, I’d helped him cope with a stalker who was convinced he was going to marry her. And another time, I had strong-armed a father trying to force Dante into a shotgun wedding with his daughter, who insisted Dante had gotten her pregnant. But when she gave birth, the child was fully human, which wouldn’t be the case if Dante was the sperm donor. The list went on and on. At least he took breaks between dating spurts, but it had reached the point where I dreaded it when he was back on the apps.

“I promise you,” he said, “I won’t ask you to rescue me. I’m trying to be more selective about who I date.”

I laughed, leaning across my desk. “I’ll believe that when I see it. But, thanks. Why don’t you drop over around ten on Saturday? I’ll spring for lunch.”

“Sounds good. You ready for today?” he asked, holding his foot out to admire his boot. The cowboy boots were white, and so clean I knew they were new.

“Yeah,” I said. “I did some research on the academy yesterday.”

“Give me the rundown?” he asked.

“Let me open my files.” I’d taken a bunch of notes while researching. They were on my computer, but I needed to print them out for the file, as well as send them to my tablet.

“Okay,” I said, pulling them up.

“Windchime Magical Academy was established in 1935, as a school for witches. At first, it served students who were twelve years old to eighteen. But over the years, it’s shifted to accepting students from preschool through grade 12. They also have community adult classes now. It started out as a day school, but now it also acts as a boarding school, and it grew from a large building to a five-hundred-acre campus.”

Dante whistled. “Well, it’s certainly stepped up. Any scandals through the years?”

I nodded. “There have been several unsolved deaths and disappearances over the past forty years. Before that, a few minor disturbances. The building is haunted, that’s a given.”

“Students, teachers, or guests? The missing and dead, that is.”

I glanced back at my notes. “Students…and two teachers.”

“How many victims are we talking about?” Dante leaned forward. He looked intrigued now.

I counted the names on the list. “Well, five missing, seven dead. The missing were all students. The dead…two dead teachers, and five dead students. It looks like the reports vanished from the papers quickly after they happened, and I don’t see anything regarding follow-up investigations. In fact…” I scanned through the articles I’d copies. “None of these were ever approached again, at least in the news.”

“How were the dead killed? You must admit that Letty’s death was…difficult to ignore. She landed in the center of the courtyard.”

“Let me look. Two of the students’ deaths were ruled death by poison, but they were labeled suicide. One of the teachers drowned in the gazing pool, but to drown, she would have had to get in the pool and lay flat because there was only seven inches of water in it at the time. The other teacher died from anaphylaxis from a series of massive bee stings. She was stung fifty-five times…in January during a cold snap, when bees should be inside the hive.”

“Crap,” Dante said. “That’s…weird.”

“Yeah. As for the other students, two fell to their deaths from staircases to the concrete below. And the fifth student died from asphyxiation when he locked himself inside a trunk, reportedly trying to play Houdini. But…somebody had to lock the trunk on the outside, though nobody was ever implicated.” I sat back. “All odd deaths, all of them could have been homicide but were labeled suicide or accident.”

“I think,” Dante said, “Angela might be onto something. A couple odd deaths are to be expected but…seven? What about the missing students?”

I glanced at the report again. “They all vanished in November, though years apart. Nobody ever saw them again, and while there were a few searches, the parents went silent.”

Dante shifted in his seat. “When were the deaths?”

“There’s the oddest thing of all,” I said. “Almost every single death took place during November. If the authorities ever noticed it, they didn’t say a word.” I stretched, then slid my jacket on again. “I think we’d better get over to Letty’s house and go through her things. But we’ll have to work quietly. If the cops refuse to examine the cases, they’re going to try to keep Letty’s quiet, as well. I have no idea why, but I think we’ve stumbled onto something bigger than a few deaths.”

“Yeah,” Dante said. “I’ll get my jacket. You want to drive?”

I nodded, slinging my purse over my shoulder. “Meet me at Sophia’s desk when you’re ready.” As I headed to the front of the office, I remembered the look on Angela’s face. She knew there was something wrong, and I knew she was right.