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The next morning seemed to drag on. Wynona was feeling more and more weighed down by her personal life and it was making it difficult to keep going in public. She needed those lessons from Granny...badly. But Wynona wanted nothing to do with taking over the presidential seat and she absolutely did not see herself ever declaring a siege on her father.
But if I can help Celia...
The argument in her head went in circles. She wanted a certain result, but wasn’t willing to take the path that would lead to that result.
Forget your family, Violet scolded. If you don’t start paying attention to your customers, they’ll all walk out and then it won’t matter one way or another.
Wynona nodded. “Right.” She shoved her worries aside, focusing on the here and now, and managed to make it through the afternoon. By the time she set the ‘Closed’ sign on the door, Wynona was ready to collapse. “And yet the day is only beginning,” she murmured. She had yet to speak to Chief Ligurio or Rascal today about Zander’s body. Tired as she was, Wynona wanted to know what they’d discovered.
Standing in the middle of the dining room, Wynona began to clean up the space as quickly as she was comfortable with with her magic. Trays and dishes began to fly through the air and Wynona held perfectly still, afraid that the slightest break in concentration would cause her to break something.
As the organized chaos began to wind down, she found herself relaxing slightly. Stepping forward, Wynona smiled, proud of how far she was coming in her skills. As her left foot moved forward, she found her balance moving backward. Instead of landing on the floor, her shoe slid and Wynona fell in a heap on the hardwood.
The crashing of dishes rang through her ears, just as a heavy pulse rang through her head. “Ow,” she whined, closing her eyes. “How many dishes did I break?” she muttered.
Don’t ask, Violet said wryly. She sniffed. We’re just lucky you didn’t hit me with anything. Then where would you be?
Wynona sighed. “Sorry. I must have stepped in something.” Gingerly, her head pounding, she sat up. Sure enough, a puddle of tea was on the floor, causing the slippery surface.
“Messy, messy, messy,” Lusgu snapped. Shaking his head, he snapped his fingers and everything in the room began to put itself back together, the broken dishes dumping themselves into the trash.
“Sorry,” Wynona said again. She climbed to her feet and took a deep breath to help the pain. A goose egg on the back of her head let her know she’d whacked it pretty hard.
Do you have a concussion? Rascal’s voice came through her head.
Biting back her squeal of surprise, Wynona took an inventory of herself. I don’t think so. Just a headache and a bump. It’s nothing.
I’ve got something you can take, Rascal continued. Want me to come pick you up?
No. Thanks. I’ll grab some chamomile and ginger tea, then come over. That way I have my scooter when we’re done.
You know I don’t mind.
Wynona smiled. His stubborn desire to protect her was endearing to say the least. I know. But this will be quicker anyway. I’ll be there soon. Love you.
Love you too.
Violet was giving Wynona a smug look when she came out of her thoughts.
“Don’t say it,” Wynona warned. “I know we’re cheesy, but it’s the one thing in my life that’s like a fairy tale. Let me have it.”
Violet held up her hands. I wasn’t going to say anything.
Wynona snorted and shook her head, then winced. “Tea,” she reminded herself. She left Lusgu to do the heavy lifting, who was better at cleaning up anyway, and headed to the kitchen to brew herself a concoction. The spicy scent of ginger tickled the back of her throat and Wynona hummed in enjoyment as she drained the cup. Slowly, the pain in her head ebbed, but the bump still remained.
What if you tried to heal it? Violet suggested.
Wynona paused. “Granny said most witches need to see a wound to heal it.”
Violet shrugged as only a mouse could. You’re not most witches.
Wynona chewed on her bottom lip, her mind whirling. Healing would definitely be a useful skill, but dare she try it? What if it went terribly wrong and she hurt herself instead? “Lusgu?” She went back out to the dining room to find the brownie directing the broom.
He huffed at her.
“I’d like to try healing this bump.” Wynona hesitated when he stilled. “Would you be willing to stand by in case I do it wrong?”
“I’m not a miracle worker,” he snapped.
Wynona nodded. “I know, but you’ve also shown me time and again that you have the ability to stop my magic.” She frowned. “I don’t know why and I don’t get the feeling you want to share, but I...I need your help.”
Lusgu folded his arms over his suspenders and stared her down.
Wynona held his gaze. It was disconcerting, but she had nothing to hide. She wasn’t trying to use him, but she didn’t want to do this alone. She appreciated Lusgu and knew she would have hurt herself and several others multiple times if it wasn’t for his interference. “Please.”
The slight softening of his jaw was all Wynona needed to see. Brownies weren’t often seen as strong or powerful and therefore often got the short end of the stick in the paranormal world. But Wynona knew better. There was more to Lusgu than met the eye.
He gave her a curt nod and the broom crashed to the floor, letting her know she had his full attention.
“Okay.” Wynona took in a slow, deep breath through her nose and focused her mind. She hadn’t ever healed anything, let alone a wound she couldn’t see. Reaching back, she put her hand on the tip of the bump and let the electric tingle of her magic slide along her fingertips.
A touch on her ankle said that Violet was adding her own help and Wynona was grateful for the extra bit of focus and strength.
She winced when the magic first hit the goose egg. The spot was tender and the shock felt like a sharp prick from a live wire, but she knew she wasn’t hurt and kept going. Slowly, ever so slowly, Wynona focused on making the bump shrink. Several excruciating minutes later, it had done just that.
She was panting with exertion, but the task was complete. “I did it,” she breathed. A laugh broke free. “Oh my goodness, I did it!” The smile on her face was wider than normal and Lusgu’s snort said he was unimpressed.
“About time,” he muttered before going back to his cleaning.
As far as compliments went, that was about as good as it got from the grumpy brownie. Not allowing his pessimism to bother her, Wynona grabbed her keys. “Come on, Violet. Time to go.”
The fifteen minutes to the police station were soothing and Wynona found she could barely keep herself from smiling the entire way. She was like a little kid at Christmas. Every time she conquered something in her magic, she felt different, better, more capable. And since she had no idea what all her magic could do, it was like opening a present with each skill.
A present that sometimes blows up in your face, Violet said.
“Thanks,” Wynona murmured as she parked. “I suppose I need someone to keep my ego in check.”
Violet snickered, but crawled into Wynona’s hand in order to go inside.
“Hey, Amaris,” Wynona said as she walked through the lobby.
The vampire spun around, her purse in her hands. “Oh, hey! You’re coming in awfully late. I was just headed home.”
“I know, but I had to wait until I could close the shop,” Wynona explained.
“Gotcha.” Amaris tilted her head toward the hallway. “I suppose that explains why Chief and Deputy Chief haven’t budged yet.”
Wynona shrugged. “Probably.”
“Go on back. I don’t know whose office they’re in.”
“Thanks! I’ll figure it out.” Wynona navigated her way through the changing of the guard and knocked on Rascal’s door.
I’m with the chief.
Wynona wanted to smack herself. One of these days, she would actually remember to use her gifts. She could have avoided this altogether by simply asking. She could hear Rascal’s chuckle as she walked down the hall. Watch it, Wolf, she teased. I might throw out all the steaks sitting in my freezer.
Rascal gave her a mock glare when she entered Chief Ligurio’s office. “You wouldn’t dare.”
Wynona smirked and raised an eyebrow. Try me.
“I don’t want to hear about your lover’s spat,” Chief Ligurio snapped. He waved toward a chair. “Have a seat and let’s see what we can get done tonight.”
Wynona followed his directions. “Is Daemon coming?”
“Skymaw will be here soon. He’s on dinner break.”
Wynona nodded. She clasped her hands in her lap. “So...catch me up.”
Rascal growled low and began to pace. “We haven’t gotten much farther than you saw last night. The shoes, which you said were the wrong ones, had his DNA in them and were the same size.”
“So they are his shoes,” Wynona murmured.
Chief Ligurio nodded. “Yes. He more than likely just changed them at some point during the day.”
Wynona pressed her lips together, not convinced, but not having any real evidence either.
“Zander’s throat was cut by an object that was not excessively sharp,” Rascal continued. “It required more of a jagged scratching, than one smooth slice.”
A shiver ran down her spine. This was the worst part of working a case. The deathly details never sat well with Wynona. “And there were no signs of a murder weapon?”
Rascal shook his head.
Wynona pursed her lips and leaned back in the seat. “We’re missing something,” she whispered.
“But what?”
Wynona shook her head. “I don’t know. But I just feel like something is right in front of us.” She began to tap her foot absentmindedly. “Why do you think his shoes were on the far side of the pool from his body?”
Rascal leaned a hip against the desk and looked to his chief.
“Maybe he took them off where he was sitting,” Chief Ligurio said gruffly. “He had legs. It’s possible he was walking around.”
“But his pants weren’t wet, right?”
“No, they weren’t,” Chief Ligurio admitted.
“And they weren’t rolled up.”
Again, the Chief confirmed her words.
“Then why take them off?” Wynona’s foot grew faster. “Zander was too prissy to simply walk around barefoot. Have you asked the rest of the family and Mr. Monroe?”
“Yes,” Rascal said with a huff. “They all have an alibi, just like they did for Ms. Roseburg’s death.” His eyes went to the floor. “Are those the shoes you slipped in?”
Wynona glanced at her flats and forced her foot to stop moving. “Yes. Why?”
He shrugged. “Just curious. It seems weird that you would slide in flats. I guess I expect it when you wear those heels, but not usually something like this.”
Wynona paused. Slowly, she brought her foot up and looked at the bottom of it. “Rascal...” She craned her neck. “Do you see anything on the bottom of my shoe?”
He frowned. “What?”
Sticking her leg straight out, Wynona could feel the stirrings of excitement. “Can you see anything? Tell me if you can see any kind of liquid stain.”
Still giving her a weird look, Rascal bent over until he could see the bottom of her shoe.
“This better have to do with the case,” Chief Ligurio said, his tone betraying his curiosity.
“I can see a dark stain. Yes.”
Wynona snapped her leg down and leaned forward. “Have those shoes tested for pool chemicals.”
“What?”
“Have the bottom of the shoes tested for pool chemicals,” Wynona repeated.
Black eyebrows pulled into a fierce V. “Are you telling me you think...” He trailed off, shaking his head.
Wynona nodded. “I do.”
Chief Liguirio closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. “You heard her, Strongclaw. Get them tested. Now.”
“On it.” Rascal had his phone to his ear within seconds. As he headed into the hallway, he squeezed Wynona’s shoulder.
She patted his hand before he let go and disappeared.
“But why?” Chief Ligurio asked softly.
Wynona shook her head. “I’m not sure yet.”
The chief leaned back. “If your hunch is right, things just took a sharp turn.”
“I know.”
“They’ll let us know within the hour,” Rascal said as he came back inside. He stopped by Wynona’s side.
“Can you have them check something else?” Wynona asked, another idea coming into her head.
Chief Ligurio nodded.
“Have them check for sock residue on Zander’s feet.” Wynona tilted her chin down. “And then compare it to the ones found in the shoes.”
Chief Ligurio growled. “Do it,” he said to Rascal.
Rascal had the phone to his ear immediately.
A knock on the door broke Wynona’s concentration.
“Chief?”
“Enter,” Chief Ligurio said, waving Daemon inside.
“Did I miss anything?”
Wynona looked at the chief, who sighed. “Maybe.”
Daemon opened his mouth, but Rascal’s exclamation stopped the coming question.
“They still need to run a couple other tests,” Rascal said, holding his phone out to the side, “but from smell alone, they’re almost positive that the same clear pool chemical is on his shoe.”
Daemon’s head bounced around from person to person. “I’m lost. What does this mean?”
Wynona slumped in her seat. “It means...that Zander killed his mother,” she said softly.
“What?” Daemon shouted, then cleared his throat.
“It also means he staged the scene,” Wynona continued. “Which might be even worse.”