Chapter 7 #2
“Excuse me,” Arthur began, then added, “dude,” for good measure in what he hoped was the correct tone of voice for the character he was playing.
He wasn’t Arthur now, he was Paisley Sunset, a budding witch who wanted to level up his skills and network with other witches.
He imagined Paisley was the sort of man who enjoyed thrifting, fusion cuisine, and ska.
Not that any of that was important for the moment, but it did so help him to get into character. “My name’s Paisley.”
Chet gave him an odd look for a moment, then plastered on a toothpaste-commercial-worthy smile. “Need a partner for the trust falls, bro? I got you.”
“Actually, I was hoping to ask you some questions.”
“Sure, sure. Ask away—we can multitask!” He held out his arms as if waiting for Arthur to fall into them.
Arthur was not the sort of man who liked to test gravity if he could help it. Paisley, on the other hand…
Turning to face away from Chet, Arthur arranged his arms in an approximation of Chet’s example. “I was wondering about Lola, the lovely pet psychic. I met her yesterday before…” Arthur trailed off.
“Yeah, Lola’s death was a huge tragedy, man. She’s been part of the coven since before me. She was part of the coven, I guess. That’s gonna be hard to get used to.”
Arthur made a mental note that Chet hadn’t automatically used past tense to refer to the deceased. It wasn’t necessarily relevant, but he remembered from some of the detective books he read that innocents had a harder time making that transition.
“Come on, I’ve got you, dude.”
Arthur grimaced, glancing over his shoulder to see Chet in a deep squat, muscled forearms waiting for his fall.
“Right.” Arthur adjusted his stance again. “Maybe we could swap places? I’m not so certain…”
Chet jumped up. “Sure thing! I get it.” He turned around and assumed the position.
“I really am so sorry for your loss. Did you know Lola well?” Arthur wanted to take out his notebook, but that would give him away. Besides, it would make catching Chet more difficult.
“As well as I knew any of the other platinum members. Sweet woman, loved animals. Had a real gift for connecting with them.” Chet sighed. “Man, it’s really going to be different around here now that she’s gone.”
Without warning, he fell backward into Arthur’s arms. Arthur wasn’t exactly ready for him and stumbled a few steps back, colliding with Sal.
“Whoa there, man,” Sal said in a tone of voice that could only be described as surfer-dude-esque.
“Apologies!” Arthur scrambled to get himself and Chet back to standing.
Sal swept his hair back and flashed a peace sign. “That’s all right, brother. Ringo Moon doesn’t hold a grudge.”
Arthur nearly choked. He’d forgotten Sal’s pseudonym for the day.
“This”—Chet pressed his palm to Arthur’s chest and Sal’s in turn—“this is beautiful. This is what we’re all about. Power through unity.”
“Yeah, free love,” Sal said, nodding as though he understood what on earth Chet was talking about.
Arthur flashed Sal a tight smile, as if they were only acquaintances and not a married couple.
“Now it’s your turn, Paisley!” Chet exclaimed, readying himself in an even deeper squat than before.
“Ah, yes.” Arthur resumed the position as slowly as possible, stalling while he continued his line of questioning.
“I don’t suppose you’d know of anyone who would’ve wanted to hurt Lola?
” Arthur braced himself—for Chet to ask him why he was so curious, and for the trust fall he was about to attempt.
“As a matter of fact, yeah, I do know of someone,” Chet said thoughtfully, not at all perturbed by Arthur’s question. Maybe people had been talking about Lola Lataurelle all morning. A sudden death was big news.
“Oh?” Arthur turned to face him, aborting his fall. Maybe if he kept Chet talking, he wouldn’t have to do it at all.
“There was this dude yesterday. Came in with a black cat and Lola did a reading for him, but he flipped out. Started yelling at her. I didn’t see it personally, but lots of coven witches did. Wouldn’t surprise me if the cops already arrested him. I bet he did it.”
“Ah.” Arthur couldn’t think of anything to say to that.
“Come on. All this death talk is bumming me out.” Chet held out his arms. “Let’s keep things positive.”
“I’m sorry.” Arthur slumped. “I don’t think I can do it.”
“Not with that attitude!” Chet placed a hand on each of Arthur’s shoulders and turned him around. “Now, fall!”
Perhaps Chet was a personal trainer in his regular life. Arthur felt suddenly assured that he could, indeed, do it. He leaned backward, a shock going through his nervous system as gravity took over.
“There we go!” Chet absorbed his weight and lifted him back up. “See? That wasn’t so bad.”
Arthur and Chet had different definitions of bad, but he wasn’t about to let on.
He excused himself with a brief thanks and returned to where Sal and Hailey were gleefully launching themselves into each other’s arms. It was a wonder to him how anyone could look at his husband and see a killer.
Of course, Sal didn’t exactly comport himself like an innocent in the moment, but how were they supposed to know Lola Lataurelle would be murdered hours later?
The average person would think Sal had done it, based on the evidence.
But Arthur knew the public fight was just bad timing…
Which the killer might’ve known, too. All the suspicion would fall on Sal, leaving them free and clear.
Maybe the timing wasn’t a coincidence at all.
“I can levitate for real, you know,” Sal was saying as Arthur approached. “But only at night. And nights this time of year are so depressingly short.”
“I love summer,” Hailey said with a contented smile.
“Way cuter outfits, and I can always use a chilling spell to keep my water cold.” To demonstrate, she spoke a few soft words Arthur couldn’t catch and tapped the bottle snapped to her bag with a bright green carabiner.
The metal frosted over. That certainly was useful.
“Excuse me, Sal,” Arthur said, but his husband ignored him. Right. “Excuse me, Ringo Moon, I need to find a restroom. Help me look.”
“They’re all those dreadful portable kind—” Sal glanced at Arthur’s face and seemed to see the message he was trying to beam into Sal’s head. “Right, of course, my love…ly new friend.”
Together they left. Sal tried to head toward the actual restrooms, but Arthur pulled him to a deserted spot between two tents. “This way.”
“Oh, how romantic. Just had to pull me out for a quick snog? I told you we should have paired up for the trust fall exercise.”
Arthur rolled his eyes and relayed the information he’d learned from talking to Chet.
“So, you think Lola was in the inner circle of the coven?” Sal asked when he was done.
“Exactly. We should focus our attention there, and try to access any potion stores.” A killer wouldn’t risk leaving deadly potions to be sold to customers, surely. Unless their motives were more of the serial variety than the usual ones of passion, greed, and revenge.
“Wait, how are we supposed to determine if a potion is poisonous?”
Sal had a point. “We need to talk to someone familiar with that sort of thing, but not a coven witch.”
“I know exactly who to call!” Sal pulled his mobile out of his pocket and began to text furiously. “She’ll meet us by the cotton candy stall.”
“Why not somewhere more covert?”
“Because I want cotton candy! Buy me some?”
Arthur threw his hands up in defeat. “Blue or pink?”
“What is this, a gender reveal party? That’s so very binary.”
“So, both?”
“Arthur! You’re too good to me.” Sal flounced off toward the cotton candy stall, leaving Arthur to dig in his wallet for a few bills.
Lore arrived before Sal finished his second cotton candy but after his tongue had turned an outrageous shade of blue. She wore the same sunglasses as yesterday, and kept looking over her shoulder. Arthur scanned the crowd as well.
“Sheriff is here,” Lore said by way of explanation. “He’s interviewing potential witnesses, so we can’t talk long. I would never interfere with an active investigation, or encourage private citizens to do the same.”
“Of course not,” Arthur said. “And if you perhaps knew a private detective who specialized in paranormal matters, well. The victim was a psychic, after all.”
Sal parted his blue-stained lips, probably to argue that last claim very loudly, but Arthur stuffed some of the pink cotton candy in his mouth to silence him. It worked, but left Arthur’s hand unsettlingly sticky.