Prologue

H ow it all began

Sitting up straight when my phone chimed a call, I scooped it up with a groan, still a little grumpy from our latest investigation. “Accidental Detective Agency. This is Nina Statleon. You buy we investigate how they died.”

Marty, one of my partners in our new side hustle into criminal investigations hissed her disapproval, “Nina! You can’t answer the phone like that. You’ll scare off any potential new clients. We’ve talked about this. Tone it down, Vampire.”

Wanda, my other partner frowned, too, clamping her fingers together to signify I should shut it down. “That’s no better than ‘Someone dies we fly,’ and you know it. Behave yourself.”

Man, I really thought I’d toned that tagline down enough for even the most sensitive of sensitive. I thought it was a shitload softer than, “If you got the bread, we’ll investigate why they’re dead.”

There was no pleasing some people, I guess.

Smiling, I noted who was calling. “As I live and breathe. It’s my favorite fairy, Primrose Dunham. Hang on and lemme put ya on speaker.” I set the phone on my desk with a chuckle.

“You don’t breathe, vampire,” Primrose teased.

Primrose had once been a client of ours not long ago. A human turned fairy. That had been a trippy-trip of wings and sparkly dust, but she was good people.

“Heyyy, Prim!” Marty called with a warm smile. “How are you and Raff?”

The cellphone crackled a moment before she responded. “We’re good, Marty. Sorry it’s been a minute, but it’s been busy. How are you guys?”

“We’re good. Just off a case and catching our breath,” Wanda said. “It’s so great to hear your voice, honey! What’s up?”

Nina heard the smile in Prim’s voice. “Couple of things, but first, I hear you guys opened a detective agency? Everyone’s talking about it! Bet Ms. Vampire’s thrilled. So tell me all about how much you hate it,” she said, laughter in her voice.

I made a face at my two friends. “You wanna hear how much I hate that they’ve turned the dungeon in the castle into a damn showplace with bookshelves from floor to ceiling, landscape paintings that look like a five-year-old painted ’em with watercolors?—”

“They most certainly do not, Prim!” Marty protested. “They’re beautifully done copies of Monet; I’ll have you know and they’re gorgeous.”

I nodded like Prim could see me. “Yep. That’s the bullshit they fed me when they were ditching all my velvet Elvis paintings. Know what else we have? A reception desk, complete with a receptionist and throw rugs everywhere. What kind of dungeon has throw rugs? Oh, and a settee in peacock blue Marty couldn’t stand to pass up from Wayfair with scrolly arms that’s as damn uncomfortable as parking your ass on a bed of rocks.”

“Oh, Nina, it is not and they’re all things that make a space where people are coming to ask us to investigate murders comfortable and welcoming,” Wanda reminded.

Prim’s laughter echoed through the phone. “I know you don’t like change, Vampire, but I bet it’s beautiful.”

“If you can call a murder basement beautiful, then sure. It’s fucking grand.”

Prim laughed again. “Is that what you’re calling it? A murder basement? I can’t wait to see it. Anyway, I called because when I heard about this new gig you guys have from the Paranormal and More Newsletter, I had to hear the deets. I mean, a detective agency, guys? Don’t you have enough on your plates? You had to add investigating murders, too?”

Popping my lips, I nodded my head. “That’s what I said, but you know what these two are like when they get an idea. They run hog wild and a freight train couldn’t stop them.”

“So have you investigated any murders yet?”

Leaning back in my office chair, I snorted. “Oh, yeah. We sure as fuck have.”

“Oh!” she cried, the excitement in her voice clear. “Tell me all about it—tell me everything. I’m dying to hear how that went.”

Cracking my knuckles, I stretched with a smirk. “Lemme tell you all about our first case. Her name was Brenda Bronkowski. Holy pissed-off clan breathing down our necks…”