Chapter 34

Stage Twenty-Six, Canoodle Lot, Fairyland Studios, Los Angeles, California, United States

Sophia managed to set Gen up with a famous and apparently immortal detective. He was a bit after her time, but she had met him recently. It was this great detective who had helped to find Gen when she'd been lost in modern-day London when Father Time attempted to put her on her timeline in 1426, but it didn't work. The man followed the clues in a huge and confusing city and found Gen, which was exactly after she'd dug up her dragon's egg in what was now known as Hyde Park.

This detective was thought to be a fictional character by most. But because the Beaufont family always knew the secrets in this world, they'd discovered that he was a real man and an immortal sleuth who was compelled to solve mysteries for all of time. It was a strange bit of magic, but there were many unexplained characters like this on the globe. Many were demi-gods who Mama Jamba had created to do various jobs.

Sherlock Holmes was notoriously known for being the greatest detective of all time. He had solved almost every case he'd ever been given. He had a mind designed to see details and deduce information in order to unravel mysteries. Currently, he was working a murder case in Los Angeles, which was perfect for Gen. Sophia had known about this since he was a family friend, constantly helping the Beaufonts, and she'd arranged for Gen to meet up with the great detective.

Many thought, based on the books written about Sherlock, that his assistant was a Dr. Watson. That had been true, but currently and probably for the rest of time, his assistant was strangely King Rudolfus Sweetwater. This man, who Gen had also met when lost in London, was by far the most bizarre character anyone had ever interacted with. However, that was not why he was the king of the fae or the richest man in all the world, but only an extra bonus to his over the top character.

Catching sight of the two men standing next to the large metal building, Gen hurried over, waving for them to see her, although, she was certain that they had as soon as she materialized. They were expert detectives, after all.

"Oh, did you get lost?" King Rudolf asked, jovially waving at Gen as she hurried over. "I bet Wilshire Boulevard looked totally different in your time. The Gaylord Hotel probably didn't even exist."

The king was by far one of the most attractive men Gen had ever seen with his short, blond hair and bright blue eyes. He had a timeless elegance and was probably a great resource for her since he'd been around since the 15th century. Fae weren't just gorgeous and dumb, they also lived a thousand years—well, unless they drank chemicals in an attempt to get drunk. Then they died rather young and quickly.

Sherlock Holmes cut his eyes to the man wearing a purple tunic and slacks. "America didn't exist in Gen's time…"

The great detective looked very different than his assistant in a dark brown tweed suit jacket with patches on the elbows and slacks to match. He had a flat cap covering his brown hair and pulled down over his studious eyes, which also matched his attire.

"Oh, right. Well, I forget what was where and when." Rudolf pointed to a tree that was growing out of a small patch of earth surrounded by concrete in what was apparently a movie lot. "Did we have those in the 15th century? Or are those a newer invention of Mama Jamba's?"

Gen grinned at the man, hoping that he was joking, but getting the impression that he was deadly serious. "Trees have been around from the beginning, I'm certain." She glanced at Sherlock, who seemed not bothered by the dimwittedness of his assistant. Apparently, it's what helped him to think on these cases. "Sophia said that you were working a murder case here at this…television studio, is it?"

She looked around at the strange place that was all metal and rock, like a forest had been banished from the place, except the lone tree in the distance. There were many loud vehicles of various sizes and strange equipment. This was apparently the place where those stories were made that broadcast onto the magical screens known as televisions.

"Yes, it's where the soulless come to tell the creatives how to live their lives," Rudolf said in a hushed voice.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "He's talking about movie executives and how they create obstacles for actors and writers and whatnot."

"Okay," Gen said, drawing out the word. "Well, thanks for the education. I think between the two of you, I might get a better handle on the present day and all its strangeness."

She meant that too. Rudolf had such a different way of looking at the world and Sherlock seemed to decode it in a more logical way.

The great detective pointed at a building beside them. "And yes, we have a string of murders that you can assist with since you've been assigned to solve a case. The deaths have been happening here on the set of a popular soap opera show known as Sunset Cove. The director, cast and crew all believe that the set is cursed by a strong magic."

"Why do they think that?" Gen asked, watching as Rudolf withdrew a silver flask from his pocket and unscrewed the lid.

The fae took a swig from the container and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Because the old director, when he quit, stormed off the set and yelled, ‘I curse this place.'"

Sherlock nodded. "Since then, anyone who plays the love interest opposite the main character, dies tragically. There's been three fatalities. Now no one will take the part and the actress, Alexus who plays the lead is threatening to quit. The show is about to be terminated and the stage here condemned if we don't solve the case."

"So you don't think that the director actually cursed the show?" Gen asked.

"We do not," Rudolf replied, offering her the flask of liquid.

Gen shook her head.

"People kill people, not curses, usually," Sherlock explained. "Someone is behind this and we need data in order to make a deduction."

"Well, it sounds like it is the previous director," Gen offered.

"He's dead, having killed himself after leaving," Rudolf stated. "So it's probably not him, but maybe…"

"It's not him," Sherlock said, studying the building in front of them. "Also, ghosts usually don't kill people. People kill people. Someone is behind the string of murders and possibly the person who killed the director is our murderer."

"So you don't think it was a suicide?" Gen questioned.

"It's a theory," Sherlock replied. "But a theory is only as good as the evidence supporting it, which is what we must collect now."

Rudolf turned to Gen, offering his arm, like a chivalrous gentleman. "Are you ready to solve the case of the cursed soap opera?"

Gen found herself smiling, grateful that her assignment had paired her up with these two men. She believed she would learn a lot from them and have a good time in the process. Slipping her arm around the fae's, she nodded. "Yes, teach me your ways of detecting and let's find the murderer."