5. An Unusual Case #2
“This is not a test. This is a message from the magical emergency broadcast network.”
“What’s going on?” Arthur wondered. And then he concentrated on the most important question on his mind. “Rosie, where are you right now?”
If something was seriously wrong, he didn’t care who read his thoughts. Perhaps they would help him find Rosie.
“I’m fine, Dad,” she answered immediately.
Arthur could tangibly feel her concern for him through the watch, which was quite heartwarming, actually.
He could see why these things were so popular.
“You’re probably about to get bombarded with messages about the Mudpuddle. I didn’t want you to worry. I’ll?—”
Another public broadcast abruptly interrupted her caring thoughts.
“The Mudpuddle Bookstore and Cafe remains missing after close to twenty-four hours. Authorities have confirmed that the body found on the property is that of one-hundred-and-eleven-year-old Zephyr Nightshade. Zephyr is a prominent wizard from the Primrose community. For this reason, the disappearance is now being investigated as a crime. The whereabouts of proprietress Minerva Lathrop are unknown. Reports are unclear whether she was inside the Mudpuddle when it vanished. If you have any additional information, we urge you to come forward or share it on a private channel. The Lathrop family has requested that we respect their privacy. Efforts are underway to investigate the scene and locate the Mudpuddle Bookshop. Local Authorities have requested that you avoid the area until further notice.”
“You’re there at the scene right now, aren’t you, Rosie?” The thought slipped out before Arthur had a chance to censor it. Of course she was. She’d probably rushed right over. Just like he would have at her age. Foolish.
“Yes, but I’m just leaving. I’m on my way home now. We can talk more when I get?—”
“Shame on you, girlie! You should be safe at home. What kind of father lets his daughter roam the streets after dark with a murderer on the loose?” This time Rosie’s transmitted thoughts were interrupted by what felt like eavesdroppers.
“It was shifters, I tell you. I saw three hoodlums leaving the Mudpuddle yesterday, including that giant Ox Bardo Chan.” Another thinker’s thought intruded.
“Bardo Chan is not an Ox Shifter. He’s a yak. And he has nothing to do with the Mudpuddle disappearing. Mind your own business!”
That response was definitely Rosie.
“Lover’s quarrel, if you ask me. Minerva and Zephyr have always had a rocky relationship.”
“I’ll tell you what I think. I think it was?—”
Arthur jerked his thumb away from the hot screen, breaking the connection and silencing the chorus of theories.
It did nothing to slow the roll of his own thoughts. Information tumbled and clattered in his head like stones. He stood and paced around the room twice. Then he dropped back onto the couch. He drank some more wine and slid a cork coaster under the glass.
A moment later, his telephone rang. It was Rosie, calling him from the pay phone in the alley.
“I just came through the passage, Dad. I’ll be home in fifteen minutes.
” She was breathless. “I’ll tell you everything I saw.
I still can’t believe it. Some people say that Minerva did it, and others say that it was Bardo.
You’ll defend him if he’s in trouble, won’t you?
I told him you wouldn’t let them pin it on him! ”
Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath. On her deathbed, Pearl Chan had warned Rosie to stay away from her grandson Bardo. And yet, his daughter still insisted on defending the Chan kid even after his own grandmother had disinherited him.
Arthur could already hear Rosie’s argument.
She would say that Bardo didn’t have anyone else.
That people have the wrong idea about him, but he’s not actually that bad.
Arthur would listen, while considering whether the rumors about the kid using synthetic magic were true.
He cared about Bardo, but keeping his daughter safe was his top priority.
“Just come home safe, Rosie,” Arthur said. “We can talk more when you get here.”
“But, Dad, what if they never get the Mudpuddle to come back? It’s the only place where shifters and witches all hang out together and get along.”
“The Mudpuddle has vanished before,” Arthur said. “And it’s always come back.”
“That was years ago. And it’s never been gone this long!” Rosie insisted. “Minerva could always get it to come right back. What if something happened to her? How will they get it back?” Rosie was near tears now. Arthur could hear the desperation in her voice.
“I’m sure someone’s working on it,” Arthur said confidently and reassuringly.
“They’ll get it sorted. If anything has happened to Minerva, they’ll find the rightful owner and get them to summon the house back.
Enchanted properties might appear to have a mind of their own, but ultimately they have to answer to their owners. ”
He wanted to soothe her with stories that had happy endings, like he did when she was a little girl.
But he didn’t want to lie to her. There might be no simple way to bring the house back.
Especially if the Mudpuddle’s legal affairs weren’t in perfect order.
Who knew what kinds of contingencies and codicils the Lathrop witches had placed on that property?
He had enough legal experience to imagine all the ways this could end badly.
He pitied the poor soul who’d have to sort it out.
Losing the Mudpuddle wouldn’t just be sad for Rosie, it would be devastating for the entire community.
“Can you imagine getting a phone call from someone telling you that you’ve just inherited a magical bookshop?” Arthur attempted to change tack.
“Actually,” a vaguely familiar male voice rang out from behind him, “I was thinking we should tell Maida Westabrook in person.”
Arthur froze and glanced at his wrist. The voice wasn’t coming from the T-watch. He hadn’t even heard Rosie’s response.
“Dad?” she asked. “You still there?”
He was on his feet in an instant, facing the red-haired man in his kitchen.
He had frequently met Buffalo Westabrook’s personal assistant in passing.
There was no forgetting him. Will Porter was such a colorful, memorable character.
Arthur suspected he was at least half fae.
But other than that, he didn’t know the man from Prometheus.
“You know what, Rosie?” Arthur replied to his daughter. “Could you pick up some cereal on your way home? I just remembered we’re all out. Thanks, honey. See you soon.” Arthur hung the phone receiver back on the wall.
“I wouldn’t mind having a glass of what you’re having,” Will said, foraging through Arthur’s cabinets, looking for a wine glass.
“What are you doing in my house, Will? How did you even get in?” Arthur asked.
“Oh, come on.” Will cocked his head and pulled a disbelieving face. “You didn’t ever suspect?”
“Suspect what?” Arthur’s brows drew in and he raised himself to his full height, which was just shy of six foot five. “That you’re some sort of cat burglar?”
“As if there’s anything here worth stealing!” Will snorted. “Although…I do like that tie,” he pointed to the expensive silk-print necktie draped over the back of the sofa.
Arthur stepped forward, looming over Will.
“Okay! Okay! I’ll tell you how I got in. It’s in my name. Say my name!” Will held his arms over his head.
“William?” Arthur said. He took another step forward. He was significantly larger than Will, which was highlighted by the close quarters of the cramped kitchen.
“My full name.” Will cringed backward, leaning into the open cabinet. He helped himself to a fortuitously placed wine glass.
“William Porter,” Arthur said.
“Mmm hmmm.” Will nodded encouragingly. “Anything click with that?”
“Should it? Do I know you from somewhere? I don’t think we’ve met outside of my dealings with Buffalo…”
“PORTER?” Will said it louder now, rolling his eyes.
Finally, Arthur understood. He almost couldn’t believe it.
“For real? That’s still a thing?”