Page 29 of Investigation of a Quest

“Yeah, he’s safer here.” Bel kissed her pup. “Love you, buddy. Keep your paws crossed Mom doesn’t get stuck at a crime scene all night.”

Their logic didn’t stop Cerberus from trying to sneak out the door with them, so the couple climbed into Eamon’s truck, wracked with guilt, and drove to another neighboring town that was so small they didn’t have their own police department. Their 911 calls went to Dorothy’s station, but tonight, the Bajka police were out in full force, dressed as anything but cops. But the night’s greatest disturbance was a middle school boy who snuck into the haunted house against his parents’ wishes, only to emerge in tears. No bodies. No suspects. And definitely no lurking witches.

Which was both a relief and a source of anxiety for Eamon and Bel as they drove home. Was the witch from the tin man’s crime scene an unfortunate bystander who realized lingering in town with a dhampir and a murder case was a bad idea, or was she the perpetrator who’d learned to cover her tracks better?

“Hi, Baby Beast.” Bel wrapped her arms around the sleepy pitbull who greeted them with squinting eyes. Eamon’s phone rang, interrupting their homecoming, and he answered in flawless Japanese as he patted the dog’s rump. It wasn’t the first call he’d conducted in another language, but Bel still couldn’t get over how seamlessly he slipped into foreign languages as if they were all his native tongue.

“Sorry,” he mouthed to her in English. “I have to take this. I’ll be in my office.”

“It’s fine.” Bel kissed his cheek. “Cerberus and I need quality alone time before he forgets he’s my dog.” She snapped on his harness as her boyfriend climbed his stairs, and together mom and mutt ventured out into the darkness. The motion detectors flipped on the garden lights, and they wandered among the carefully cultivated plants that extended deep into the property. The night was crisp, but she was bundled up, and the sky was clear. Cerberus was overjoyed to have his mommy all to himself, and it was exactly what she needed after the evening’s anxiety. Cerberus had brought her peace after her New York City attack, and he was still doing it years later as they strolled through the⁠—

A heavy footfall slammed into the earth behind her, and that was the only warning Bel received before powerfully familiar arms grabbed her by the waist and yanked her behind him.

“Run!” Eamon shoved her toward the house, a feral growl reverberating from his throat.

“What’s going on?” she gasped as he practically carried her and the confused pitbull into his mansion, but he didn’t stop running until he locked them inside its safety.

“What’s wrong?” she repeated.

“Witch,” Eamon panted.

“A witch?” Bel lunged for the window and peered out into the darkness. She hadn’t seen or heard anyone. “Here? On your property?”

“Yeah.” Eamon collapsed against the wall.

Bel’s spine stiffened. Eamon’s fear was the most terrifying sight in the world. He was the top of the food chain, so to see him shaken? She coughed on her sudden panic.

“They’re risking your wrath by coming onto your property?” she asked. “Oh my god… was it the witch you saw at the tin man crime scene?”

“The presence felt the same,” Eamon said. “I don’t want you walking alone anymore. I’ll come with you if you want to walk Cerberus. I can hang back to give you privacy, but I don’t want you out here unprotected.”

“I don’t understand. Why are they risking breaching the Reale Estate?” Bel glanced down to where her dog had returned from the kitchen, his dripping lips a sign he’d visited his water bowl, and a sudden thought washed over her. “And why didn’t Cerberus react?”

“No fingerprints, no trace evidence, no company logo or signature,” Bel said as they stared at the metal sheets that had encased Dr. Frank Calon’s body. The techs had examined the tin man’s attire, submitted their findings to the detectives first thing that morning, and, as expected, found absolutely nothing.

“Just the victim’s DNA,” Olivia said. “The same as the scarecrow’s clothes and accessories.”

“But…” Bel picked up the chest piece with its ruptured metal shards from where his heart had been ripped out. “Scarecrow outfits are easy to come by—straw, farmer’s clothing, sticks, makeup. You can get those at almost any second-hand store or art supply shop. Plus, it’s Halloween. Hay bales are everywhere. But a tin man outfit? It didn’t come from a store. Someone handcrafted this, so if we can find them…”

“Ewan—” Olivia said, fighting to keep her face neutral at the mention of her ex-boyfriend. “Violet deals with a lot of manufacturers,” she corrected. Lumen’s Customs was a luxury furniture warehouse. Its owner and designer was the first crime scene Bel encountered in Bajka, and Lumen had left his business to his assistant, Violet. She’d then hired Ewan. His rustic craftsmanship was significantly different from Lumen’s sleek style, but their new partnership had delivered them overwhelming success. Ewan crafted many of the pieces furnishing Eamon’s mansion, including most of Bel’s expansive library.

“Let’s see if Violet has time for lunch,” Bel said, and that afternoon, armed with three crispy tofu sandwiches for their vegan friend’s benefit, the detectives sat in her office eating.

“I am so glad you’re back at work,” Violet said mid-bite. “The town feels safe again.”

“What about me?” Olivia joked.

“Of course, you make it feel safe, too.” Violet patted the blonde’s hand before grabbing her iced tea. Olivia rolled her eyes, but she’d argued the same point when convincing Bel to return to the station. It seemed everyone agreed that Bajka was safer with beauty and her beast defending it.

“As much as I love this sandwich and the company, you guys are mid-case, so what’s up?” Violet asked.

“Are we that predictable?” Bel laughed.

“Lunch dates with both of you during an investigation? I have to remind myself I did nothing wrong when I see you two coming up my walkway.”

“We’re here about this.” Bel spread photos of the tin man’s body plates across the desk. “This suit has to be a custom job, and you work with a lot of manufacturers. Could anyone you know have made these?”

“Maybe,” Violet said, and the fact that she didn’t flinch at the evidence proved how much Bajka had been through. “I can give you my contacts’ numbers, or I can make some calls now if you have time.”