Chapter 11
“Forty-eight bottles of beer on the wall, forty-eight bottles of beer...”
Mason gripped the edge of his desk and stared at the ceiling.
Princess Muffin Top had been singing since they’d walked through the door fifteen minutes ago, and the dang feline showed no sign of stopping.
He had to wonder what she’d sing next once the beer reached zero and there was no more beer to pass around.
“Take one down, pass it around, forty-seven bottles of beer on the wall!”
“Is there a volume setting on that cat?” Mason muttered.
“Nope,” Adeline said from the chair across from him.
She was rolling her fingertip across the ink pad without any help from him. It was clear she’d done this dozens of times. Heck, this was his second time processing her, and he’d only been at the job a few days. He didn’t know if he should applaud her bravado…or lock her up and throw away the key.
“You know, Chief,” Beulah called from her desk, “if you’d stop arresting Adeline, you wouldn’t have to listen to the cat.”
Mason chose not to dignify that with a response. He slid the fingerprint card across the desk and watched Adeline press her thumb onto it. At this rate, he’d soon be able to wallpaper his office with her prints.
He didn’t want to like her. He really didn’t.
She was a walking headache...loud, stubborn, and allergic to following the law.
But there was something about the way she sat in that chair, completely unbothered by the handcuffs, the ink, the holding cell, the singing cat.
Something about that made him want to lean in…
instead of backing away. She treated the whole thing like an inconvenience, not a crisis.
Like getting arrested was just another item on her to-do list between baking brownies and saving squids.
It shouldn’t have been attractive. But it was.
The front door banged open, and her best friend and partner-in-crime, Emory Ashgrove, came flying in, curls bouncing, slightly out of breath.
“Dawnya and her daughter are still at the shops,” Emory said, skidding to a stop in front of his desk. “They’ll stay on until Adeline gets out.” She turned to Adeline. “How long do you think this time?”
“That depends on Chief Wolfe,” Adeline said, giving him a smile he had to fight not to return.
Emory looked expectantly at him, but he just ignored her because he had no idea how long he’d have to keep Adeline. Once again, it depended on whether or not Ivan would come in to press charges. Then, he’d have to get ahold of the prosecuting attorney.
“Cassie,” Emory said, turning to Officer Casswell, who was leaning against the filing cabinet with her mug of coffee. “Didn’t you tell the chief you were with us until late last night?”
Casswell nodded. “I told him we were all together at Adeline’s until well after eleven.
But Ivan told us the truck was hit after midnight because he was at The Moonlight Tide until then.
Says the truck was fine when he got home.
Besides, I think she’s also being detained for throwing mud at the pompous troll. ”
Adeline leaned forward in her chair. “I can promise you, Chief, I was tucked in bed by midnight.” She smiled at Mason, and his heart stuttered. “All alone.”
He looked away. He had to. If he held her gaze one more second, something on his face was going to give him away, and the last thing he needed was Beulah and Officer Casswell and Emory and that damn cat reading him like one of Miss Moody’s headlines.
Emory gave Adeline a hug and headed for the door. “I’ll hold down the fort. Text me when you’re free.”
No sooner had Emory left than the door opened again and Ivan Johansson stomped in, hard hat in hand, face still carrying traces of marsh mud on his left ear. Officer Dixon stepped in behind him.
“I’m pressing charges,” Ivan announced. “Assault. I want it on the record.”
“Forty-one bottles of beer on the wall!” Princess Muffin Top sang from the cell.
Ivan flinched. “And can somebody shut that cat up?”
“We’ve been trying for three years,” Beulah deadpanned.
Cassie laughed, but covered it by taking another drink of her coffee.
Mason rubbed his face and reached for his phone. “Let me call the prosecuting attorney.”
He dialed Thaddeus Hillman, the DA for Moonlight Bay.
Mason had met the man briefly his first day on the job...
before he’d ever heard of Adeline Beaumont.
Hillman was a werewolf shifter in his mid-fifties.
He’d told Mason he’d been the prosecutor for Moonlight Bay for nearly twenty-two years.
He put the phone on speaker so everyone could hear.
“Thaddeus Hillman,” the DA answered.
“Thaddeus, it’s Chief Wolfe. I’ve got Ivan Johansson here wanting to press assault charges against Adeline Beaumont. She threw a handful of marsh mud at him.”
There was a long pause. And then Thaddeus Hillman laughed. Not a polite chuckle, but a huge belly laugh that filled the room. “Mud? That’s it? No magic? No hexes? Just mud?”
“Just mud,” Mason confirmed.
“Is Adeline there?”
“I’m here, Thad,” Adeline called from the chair. “How are you this morning? I’m so sorry we have to call you on a Saturday and bother you.”
“Hey, sweetheart. It’s no bother, you know that. How’s the bakery?”
Mason blinked. Had the prosecuting attorney just called Adeline sweetheart? The man was at least twenty years older than her.
“Business is booming,” Adeline said. “I have some Bad-Day Brownies with your name on them to help ease this situation if you want to come in and get them.”
Thaddeus laughed again. “You got it.” He paused.
“Tell you what, Chief. We’ll plead it down to ten hours of community service if that’s agreeable to Adeline.
No court date, no hearing, no paperwork beyond the standard form.
Judge Harlan likes when things get taken care of without cluttering his docket. ”
Mason nearly laughed out loud as Adeline folded her hands in her lap like she was the innocent party here and nodded. “Of course, Thaddeus. I’d be happy with ten hours.”
Ivan sputtered. “That’s it? That’s all she gets?”
“Mr. Johansson,” Thaddeus’ voice came out sharply, “she threw mud. Not a fireball. Not a curse. Mud. Be grateful it wasn’t a hex, because based on what I’ve heard, half the town would’ve cheered.”
“This is unbelievable,” Ivan muttered.
“Chief,” Thaddeus said, “I’m sure you’ll find this out the longer you stick around, but most of our docket involves Adeline and Emory in some form or another. We’ve got the process down to a science at this point.”
“And me!” Princess Muffin Top shouted from the cell. “I’m also a repeat offender!”
Thaddeus laughed. “Sorry, Princess Muffin Top. Didn’t know you were there. Yes, you are also a formidable adversary.”
“Thank you, Thaddeus,” Princess Muffin Top purred. “I appreciate the recognition and compliment.”
Mason shook his head as he ended the call. “Why am I not surprised?”
Ivan Johansson stared at Mason, then at Adeline, then at the cat in the cell, then back at Mason. His mouth opened and closed twice, his face turned red, but in the end, he just turned on his heel and stormed out, slamming the door behind him hard enough to rattle the windows.
Adeline clucked her tongue. “That man is going to give himself a heart attack one day.”
Officer Casswell chuckled. “Wonder if he’ll blame it on you, Adeline?”
“He probably will,” Beulah said. “And want her immediately arrested.”
Mason opened the top drawer of the desk and took out the paperwork for community service and handed it to Adeline. He was a little surprised and disappointed when she took it and didn’t tell him not to worry, she already had a huge blank stack at home she kept handy for just such an occasion.
“Ten hours,” Adeline said, standing up from the chair. “Piece of cake. I’ll have that knocked out by next week, Chief Wolfe.”
Mason stood at the same time she did. They were closer than he’d expected.
Close enough that her shoulder brushed his chest, and her hair—that beautiful red hair that always smelled like sugar and vanilla even when sitting in a marsh—swept against his arm.
She looked up at him, and neither of them moved.
Even Princess Muffin Top had stopped singing.
“Sorry,” she said softly. But she didn’t step back.
“You’re fine,” he said. But he didn’t step back either.
Beulah finally cleared her throat loudly from her desk, and they both sprang apart.
“You can call me Mason,” he said. “You don’t always have to call me Chief Wolfe.”
She smiled. “I’ll think about it.” She turned toward the cell. “Come on, Princess Muffin Top, we’re breaking out of prison.”
The cat hopped down from the cot and sauntered between the bars and out of the cell. She stopped at his desk and looked up at him. “Keep my seat warm in there, Wolf Boy.”
Mason watched them go. He watched the door close.
He stood there for a beat too long, and he knew it.
He could feel eyes on him, but he didn’t really care.
All he could think about was how much Adeline Beaumont was getting to him.
Was she doing it on purpose? Had she cast some kind of spell on him, and he didn’t know it? Could she do that?
“Do you really think she’s behind the truck sabotage?” Casswell asked, breaking him from his stupor.
Mason shook his head. “No.”
“Then why do you keep hauling her in?”
“Because she keeps breaking the law right in front of me.” He dropped into his chair. “And until we find out who is doing the vandalism, the evidence keeps pointing her way.”
Beulah snorted from her desk. “That girl’s been pushing back against authority her entire life. Trust me, Chief. Had any of us been raised by the ice queen Lavinia Beaumont, we’d rebel too.”
It was on the tip of his tongue to ask about Adeline’s parents.
He’d noticed she never mentioned them. Not once.
Not at the marsh, not at the station, not in any of their conversations.
She talked about her grandmother, about Emory, about the bakery, about the squish-squids.
But never her parents. He wanted to ask more about them...
but that had to come from her. Not from Beulah.
Not from gossip. If Adeline ever trusted him enough to tell him, he wanted to hear it from her.
He stood and picked up his coffee cup. The liquid was cold, but he could reheat it. He also picked up his notebook. It was time to figure out who was really behind all the sabotage. “I’ll be in my office if anyone needs me.”