“Thank you, Olive. You and Griffin can head home for the evening. It doesn’t look like we’ll have much more luck tonight, and it’s already pretty cold out,” I told her while I set up the folding table and dinner in front of Sterling.
“Thank you, Cassian. Good luck with your investigation. I sincerely hope to arrive to good news tomorrow,” she said, nodding goodbye to Sterling as she left the room.
I rubbed the back of my neck and frowned at Sterling. His eyebrows lifted, and he made another note. “Are you from Ladiall, Cassian?” he asked, setting his journal down to pour himself a cup of coffee.
“No, sir.”
“Call me Sterling,” he said.
“Sure thing, Mr. Thimbledip.”
He smirked over his sip of coffee, and I felt very proud of myself for drawing a reaction out of him. When he set the drink down, he asked, “Why did you say someone from Ladiall would have cursed you? Have you been there?”
“Maybe once or twice. It’s the nearest big city to here. I’m just grasping for answers. I don’t know,” I said.
He eyed me carefully until I felt like he could read my mind, and then he glanced at Jasmine. “What about you?”
“Of course I’ve been to Ladiall. Who hasn’t?” she asked.
“Do you have any enemies there?”
“Maybe a few ex-boyfriends, but none of them know I’m here,” she answered.
“All right.” Sterling took another sip of coffee. “Let’s move on. How do you know the inn is cursed?” he asked.
“What else could it be?” I asked. “We’ve had no new patrons in almost an entire week. The last few customers we had couldn’t even afford various check-out fees they accumulated during their stay. Looking back, it must have happened the night before Mr. Mimster checked out, because he had no money to pay us the next morning, and that was the same day people stopped showing up.”
“Interesting. Maybe we should take a look at your logs and investigate the last patrons who came through.”
“I don’t know about that, Thorpdunk. It doesn’t seem good business practice to accuse our guests of crimes,” I answered.
“Well, Fibblesnick, no business is not good business practice either,” Sterling answered. “You never told me how you know it’s a curse.”
He was relentless with the questions. “Allow me to show you. Try to pay me for something, like the coffee. I’m happy to serve it on the house, but just try to compensate me,” I said.
“Certainly,” Sterling said, digging through his bag. He pawed through his items, eventually digging deeper before searching all the exterior pockets and then returning to the main compartment. After a minute or two, he started pulling stuff out, and then he dumped it all out on the sofa. “So sorry,” he muttered, sorting through his various piles of clothes, toiletries, and parcels of what appeared to be food. After touching every single item at least three times, he looked up with wide eyes. “I don’t have my money pouch.”
“This is what’s been happening,” I said. “No business, but everyone has a valid reason not to spend money here, just like you. It’s been a lot of small coincidences like this, but too many to be normal. It can only be magic.”
“This is so embarrassing,” he said, rubbing his face as he eyed his belongings. “I fully intended to pay you for my stay here.”
“I fully believe you, but don’t worry about it. I never intended to charge,” I said.
His head turned to me again. “Please, I insist.”
“You cannot insist. The inn is cursed,” I said.
Sterling stood up. “No, I must go back?—”
“Come on, handsome,” I said, resting a gentle hand against his shoulder to guide him back down to the sofa. “Down you go. Eat your dinner. Don’t walk out on us yet.”
I swear I saw a tinge of blush on his tawny cheeks, but he quickly cleared his throat and picked up his fork. “If you’re not willing to investigate your customers, we’ll have to start with the staff. Tell me all you know about them,” he said before taking his first bite. His face shifted at first taste, and I knew the look. Olive’s cooking was magic of its own.
I talked about Griffin and Olive while he ate. Griffin was great at his job, but he disliked me and didn’t think I was doing enough to keep this place running. Olive was a recently widowed mother of three who worked hard to keep her kids fed and housed, and I wished I could give her more. I told him there used to be a stable hand, but he left right after my grandfather passed away. I had been taking care of stable duties while searching for help, but I had to stop searching for obvious reasons.
Sterling began tucking his belongings back into the empty pack. “Thank you, Fidderspat. I’ll have to chat with them tomorrow,” Sterling said, cinching his bag shut. “In the meantime, try to think of who else might hold a grudge against either of you or against the inn. We’ll reconnect tomorrow evening and compare notes.”
“Sure, Turnip. Do you have any other questions for us?” I asked.
