Fried Chicken & Fangs Read online

  “That might work well for them. But for me, it's never worked out.” He frowned at his admission.

  “Having a wife?” I pushed.

  “Almost. I had a fiancée, and that ended, well…” He stopped talking.

  The new information about the detective’s past bowled me over. “What happened?” I asked in a small voice.

  Mason stood up. “I think we’re done here, Miss Goodwin.”

  “For good?” My eyes got a little glassy.

  “For now."

  Chapter Seven

  When I hopped on my bike to head over to Nana's house, a little orange streak of orange blurred its way in my direction. Peaches rubbed her furry face against my leg, her demanding little body insisting she come with me.

  “You want to visit your old buddy?” I asked her, picking her purring body up. In answer, she leaped into the basket on the front of the bike, her tiny body disappearing as she settled in until her head popped up.

  Once I got us on the road, I pedaled my way to my grandmother's house without using the magic and enjoying the exertion of energy. The faster I could peddle, the more Peaches enjoyed the wind ruffling through her fur. As I approached the house, nostalgia squeezed my heart.

  It had been a hard decision to move out of Nana's, my home for so much of my life, including some of the most important events of it so far. I missed being woken up by her teasing in the morning, maybe more so than her incredible cooking. Returning to the home now made me feel like an outsider. Like I had taken all of my secrets with me, and now the only place I belonged was sitting in the formal parlor. Grabbing Peaches out of the bike basket, I trudged up the porch steps and knocked on the screen door.

  “Get your behind in here, Birdy,” Nana called out. “Stop acting like this isn't still your home.”

  With a creak and groan, the screen door pulled open, and I stepped inside, the comfort of the place wrapping itself around me like a warm blanket. The scent of something baking made my mouth water, and I followed its path to the kitchen. My cat pushed against me and rocketed out of my arms to greet Loki, my grandmother's gray-striped jerk of a cat. Maybe my cat’s presence would keep him from biting my ankles, and I enjoyed watching the two of them greet each other with sniffs and licks.

  It took me a second to take in the scene around me. Cooking and baking implements scattered about every single surface. Flour, oil, and other ingredients dotted the landscape. Plates of various baked goods were stacked on any free surface. By the looks of the dirty pans on top of the stove, I'd bet that the fridge was full as well. Always a stickler for cleanliness, my grandmother’s stress levels must be hitting a new high based on the entire scene.

  “Nana, is everything okay?” I asked with caution.

  My grandmother slammed the oven door. “Don't say anything. I know, I know, but it's the only thing that keeps me from blowing things up with my magic.”

  “That bad, hey?” It had been since my dad’s death that she’d been this affected.

  Nana placed her hands on her hips. “Child, I don't think anything has been as bad as it is right now since before you came to us. And back then, I was a much younger woman. Of course, I'm pretty sure I aged a few years in the past day or so.” She wiped a bead of sweat from her brow.

  Without hesitation, I rushed to her and wrapped my arms around her. Normally, she was the one who consoled me with her epic embraces. But if I could give her a fraction of the compassion she'd offered me throughout my life, then maybe I could make a dent in her anxiety. She melted into me and hugged back with fierce pressure. I'd risk losing consciousness from lack of oxygen any day to help this woman that I loved so dear.

  “I’ll be fine,” she muffled into my shoulder.

  I rubbed her back. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  She squeezed me hard, patted my behind, and pulled away so she could look me in the eye. “Eat as much as you can while you're here and take a lot home with you?” A wry chuckle followed her request, and she sniffed. “Frosted fairy wings, I'm a mess, aren't I?”

  It ruffled me to see her in such disarray. The woman had been a solid rock for as long as I could remember. Even with the death of both of my parents, she had remained the solid foundation from which I built my structure of support. And yet, I saw her now as a flawed being like anyone else. And it was freaking me out. Drawing on all of my strength, I hid my panic.

  “I think you have reasons to be a little worried. A lot's been going on.”

  “You're telling me.” Nana lifted the bottom of her apron and wiped underneath her eyes, smearing a little flour across her cheek in the process. “Big Willie was here this morning, filling me in on Eugenia. I knew that woman was a few spells short of sanity, but I had no idea she was so far gone. That outburst on the stage took me by surprise.”

  “It took us all by surprise, Nana. Picking up a lemon bar, I bit into the tangy treat. “But seeing her there on the library floor like doesn't make any sense either.”

  My grandmother narrowed her eyes at me. “The sheriff told me that you had been there. Being around dead bodies like that is getting to be a habit with you. One I wish you lose as quick as lightnin’.”

  “It wasn't by choice.” I proceeded to tell her everything that had happened up until my confrontation with Mason in his office.

  “I’ll admit, you do have a way of finding things. Apparently, clues, too. So you think whoever did it wanted to make Horatio look guilty?” she asked.

  “Why else would they bring the body there, and include the poem about change?” I’d recited what I could of the Longfellow lines, enough for her to get the idea.

  “Maybe they were trying to make a statement about the elections,” suggested my grandmother.

  “That's one heck of a statement. And I haven't seen that kind of protest around here anyway.” None of the pieces of the entire puzzle made sense to me yet.

  Nana pulled out the chair from the table and collapsed into it. “That's because I'm mighty good at my job. Nothing has been out in the open, but the council has received numerous complaints over these past few months.”

  “From who?” I demanded.

  She shook her head. “Not your business. And besides, sometimes the notes were anonymous. Everyone here has a right for their voice to be heard. We all knew that making any changes at all would come with resistance. It's why we tried things out like the farmers’ market.”

  “And the new stop signs at that one intersection, which I think everyone appreciated after the almost-accident,” I added.

  “Yes, but everyone wanted that. It's too soon for an election and a new council seat, but with the addition of Nora…” My grandmother trailed off, staring in front of her, her brow furrowed.

  For the first time, my grandmother looked her true age, a little tired and more worn down. “You got pressure from Hollis and Nora, didn't you?”

  My grandmother pursed her lips. “Can't tell you that. Not unless you want to throw your hat into the ring and try to win the election.”

  “Sounds like a dangerous proposition,” I attempted to joke back with her. When she didn't crack a smile, I asked a more serious question. “Are you going to go through with the election now? You know, considering the dead body and all.”

  “That's what's got me cooking.” She gestured around the kitchen. “I have to make the final decision today.”

  “And what's your first instinct?” My grandmother's got never failed her in the past, but she had always had more support on the council when Uncle Tipper was still alive.

  “There’s what I want versus what my gut tells me. I want to delay the election until we find what happened with Eugenia. Or maybe until everyone is more prepared for bigger changes.” She took a sticky cinnamon bun in her hand and unrolled it bit by bit. “But my gut tells me that stopping this election will do more harm than good at this point.”

  “But harm’s already been done,” I exclaimed. “Do you think Horatio can still run after al
l this? He may not be guilty, but in a small town like ours, sometimes rumors are stronger than the truth.”

  “And that will be his battle to fight, not yours, although I love how loyal you are to your friends. Let's talk about something else. Tell me why you came here in the first place.” Nana licked her fingers clean of frosting.

  My grandmother's ability to dig underneath the surface and find the truth in my life was uncanny. I never could hide anything from her, but maybe that was why I'd come to her today. As tired and distracted as she was, she didn't need to be burdened by my problems. “I wanted to see you.”

  “Birdy, look at me.” She waited for me to comply. “There is absolutely nothing in this world that will get in my way of taking care of me and my own. You hear me?”

  I nodded, a lump forming in my throat.

  Nana got up from the table and opened the fridge. After she poured some iced tea into glasses, she ushered me into the living room, and we both sat down in our favorite places. “Now, tell me, is it seein’ Eugenia that has you frazzled?”

  Taking a sip, I pondered the question. “No, it wasn't pleasant. But it didn't really bother me.”

  “And that's a problem to discuss for another time. But then, what has you your feathers all ruffled?” she asked.

  I feared to tell her my concerns about not being able to find Raif’s pug. Anytime something went wrong with my magic, Nana forced her own particular cure on me in the form of a disgusting, awful, horrible gray slime that she made me drink. Valuing my taste buds, I skipped over those fears. “Has Matt told you anything about Mason? Like is there something going on in his life to bother him?”

  Nana failed to hide her grin. “So it's man troubles then?”

  “No,” I protested, heat flooding my cheeks. “It's just that when I spoke with him, he acted all strange and different.”

  “You mean, he's been avoiding you. I don't think you need your powers to find the reason why, Birdy. When did things change with him?” she asked.

  I shrugged my shoulders. “I don't know.”

  “Yes, you do,” Nana wheedled. “The man's embarrassed. I've heard more details of Skeeter’s event than the ones I heard when I helped save the day. I'd bet the price of a phoenix feather that your detective acted less than noble when he was under the influence.”

  “But everyone was. It shouldn't change anything.”

  “But it did.” Nana leaned forward in her favorite chair. “Think about it. Aren't Lee and Alison Kate together? And Ben and Lily?”

  I dismissed her evidence with a shake of my head. “But they would have always gotten together at some point.”

  “What about Horatio and Juniper? That's about as unlikely a pairing as ever I would have figured, but here we are in a world where a giant troll has the hots for a tiny fairy.”

  “And both of them running in an election,” I added.

  “Right? So if you follow the clues, then you have to conclude that perhaps the detective revealed more of himself to you than he desired to at the moment. And if you'd open yourself up to that possibility, then maybe you can take some pity on the poor man, and give him some distance to figure things out.”

  I squinted at my grandmother. “You just want me to stay away from the investigation of Mrs. K's murder.”

  Nana took a long sip of her iced tea in response.

  “And he's not my detective. But he is keeping me out of the loop.” I flashed back to our work together to solve Uncle Tipper’s murder. We'd made a great team together.

  As if reading my mind, Nana spoke up. “But he had a reason to work with you, to save your life. This time, I'm grateful that you don't have to be involved.” Sadness passed over her eyes a shadow. My near-death experience had also taken a toll on my grandmother.

  Thankfully, the timer on the stove dinged and interrupted our conversation. “That would be the brown sugar pound cake. Come on, let us check to see if it's done, and you can help me by making the caramel frosting to drizzle.”

  The rest of my troubles could wait. Besides, I could use the calorie-packed cake as fuel for what came next.

  Chapter Eight

  “I don’t like this,” complained Beau as we approached the retirement home together.

  “What? The fact that I'm coming with you to your preferred dating spot or that you're helping me infiltrate the place so I can do some snooping?” I asked.

  “Both. If they catch you, then they might ban me from ever coming back,” the vampire whined.

  “Are you more concerned about your dating status than finding out what happened to a woman who lost her life? Beau, I never took you for someone so heartless,” I accused.

  His pudgy face drooped in guilt. “You're right. Let's go.”

  I might have laid the guilt on a little bit too thick, but I needed an excuse to get inside. While the warnings focused on Mrs. K's body, I could go through her room and see if anything in there gave any indication of who might have wanted to hurt her. I stopped him just shy of the entrance and pulled him to the side of the building. “Maybe we shouldn’t sign me in.” Thoughts of leaving hard evidence of my presence worried me. “Can't you do something to sneak me in?”

  “Like what?” he asked.

  “Don't vampires have the ability to make humans do what they want? Isn't that one of your superpowers?”

  Beau crossed his arms. “I never took you for someone so simpleminded, Charli. He mimicked my tone from before, laying the guilt at my feet. “Of course all vampires have the same abilities you’ve seen on television or in movies, right?”

  “No?” I replied with sheepish hesitation.

  “Do you have the same magical talents as your brother or your grandmother?” he asked.

  “No.”

  “It's the same for vampires. There are many of us who can live without taking much blood from others to survive. And only a small percentage of vampires can’t exist in daylight.” He admonished me with a disappointed expression on his face.

  “I'm sorry, Beau.” Remorse churned my stomach for pushing him and for my assumptions about his undead life.

  “Thanks.” He peaked through a side window. “Oh good, Alice is at the front desk. It shouldn't be hard to get you in. She has a thing for me, you know?”

  “How is it that in some aspects of life, you are a bumbling fool and in others—”

  “I’m a serious Don Juan Casanova? As I said, we all possess different talents.” He smiled a fangy grin at me.

  Beau sweet-talked his way in without signing the book, claiming he wanted to introduce Cordelia to me. After Alice flirted shamelessly with him, offering to finish anything Cordelia couldn't, I pasted a smile on to hide my abject disgust. We both climbed the stairs to the rooms on the second floor.

  “Which one is Mrs. K’s room?” I whispered to my roommate.

  He pointed down the hall. “Last one on the left. When she had her panic attack, they said that the nurses found her out on the roof of the porch that wraps around underneath her window.”

  “So there would be an easy way to get in and out of her room without detection?” I asked.

  Beau shrugged but didn't offer any other insights when he heard his name shrieked out in glee. Running his hand through the few strands of hair on his head, the vampire changed his attitude in an instant. “Cordelia,” he purred. “My darling.”

  “Quick, let's get you inside my room before the other girls find out you’re here.” The thin older lady gazed at him in absolute adoration.

  Beau gestured at me. “But I want to introduce my roommate to you, Miss Charli Goodwin.”

  Cordelia paid me no attention. “Yes, yes. Nice to meet you. Come on, Beau. We’ve got almost half an hour before the women in the quilting bee will miss me and come lookin’.” She licked her lips in anticipation, and I turned on my heel, sprinting for Mrs. K's room. I didn't need any more horrors to be stuffed into my head to fuel more nightmares.

  I half-expected a warden’s protection to b
e blocking the door. With the absence of any, I blessed my luck and tried the doorknob. It turned freely, and I nudged the door open. Not locked. Wanting to get inside to escape detection, I folded my body through the small opening I'd created and slipped into the darkened room.

  It reeked of gardenias, and the sense memory of the scent and the odor of her dead body came back, turning my stomach again. After a few seconds to compose myself, I opened my eyes and let them adjust to the light. All of her life existed in this tiny space. A twin bed on the left was still unmade, the quilted comforter pooled on the floor beside it.

  In the far corner by the window sat a large desk. Memories of the same piece of furniture sitting at the front of a classroom came back to me. She had taken a token of her teaching days with her, holding onto what was important to the very end.

  With my eyes adjusting, I noticed that all the decorations in the room were from her classroom. A map of the United States was tacked up over her desk. Motivational posters that she used to quote to us hung on the walls, their tattered edges rolling up a bit. As much as we made fun of her for her passion for our town, the woman had brought the same level of enthusiasm to all of her teachings.

  A wave of sadness crashed over me at the thought of someone taking her life. I wondered how long they would leave her stuff there until they boxed it up and put it away as if she never existed. As far as I knew, she had no family, calling all of us kids hers. And we all grew up and left. But a part of her never did.

  Shaking off the grief that she was due, I conjured a ball of light. I searched all the nooks and crannies for anything out of the ordinary. Crawling on the floor, I saw nothing underneath her bed.

  I wrinkled my nose when I got to her laundry hamper. The stench of her cloying perfume choked me. I started to back away but caught a glint of something in the basket. Digging through the clothes and attempting to ignore the possibility that I might be touching her dirty undies, I felt around for what I thought I'd seen.

  “Eureka,” I whispered, grasping a glass bottle.