Clever is as Clever Does (The Clever Detective) (2 page)

“I do wish you would let me go back to the castle and get my sword.”

“Uh-uh.”

Chad and I were plodding down a winding road on the far side of the farm belonging to the kingdom’s Farmer-Treasurer, the goose-with-the-golden-eggs dude and I was feeling relieved I didn’t have to deal with his anal butt today. The Slate Brothers were going to be enough of a headache. Somewhere along this road was their new building project.

“What if we need Attila?” Chad pleaded in that low, sexy voice that always turned me on.

Wasn’t it cute how men named their swords? Legend in the kingdom had it that Prince Chad had pulled his sword “Attila” out of a big mound of cottage cheese. But that was beside the point.

I kept my eyes on the rose colored path we were traversing. “No time,” I said. “They’re already two steps ahead of us.” I didn’t tell him I still had my .22 in my ankle holster.

“This is a street gang we’re talking about, Stacey. The Murderati. Are they not dangerous?”

Sure sounded like it. He really did care about me, didn’t he? Or at least he was acting like it at the moment. If only he weren’t such a big flirt. “If you’re afraid, you can go back home.”

“Me afraid?” He stopped walking and turned to glare at me. Chad’s face was so handsome when he was angry. “Did we not face a fire-breathing dragon together?”

“We did.”

“Stacey, I --” He leaned in close and my heart did a little happy dance. Was he going to say “I love you” at last? Was he going to kiss me until I said it back? Might work. That was when we heard a shout.

I looked around and saw a figure coming down a makeshift dirt road on the left. In the distance was the whir of machinery and the hoots of masculine voices. Posted on the corner of the lot was one of those fancy signs with gold lettering. It read, “Welcome to the Pork-u-Pines.” We had arrived at the Slate Brothers’ latest subdivision.

“There you are.” Bubba Slate huffed as he jaunted across the yard, his jowls inflated with air. He was dressed in his usual overalls, his curly pink tail wiggling behind him, his pointy pink ears sticking out of his hard hat.

Chad gave him a broad, regal smile. “Hello, Bubba. How are you?”

Bubba bowed his head. “As well as can be expected, Your Majesty.”

“How are Jeb and Earl?” Bubba’s brothers and fellow builders.

“Just fine.”

“How’s the project going?”

Bubba wasn’t in the mood for chitchat. “Would be better if we had your help the way we used to.” He eyed me up and down. “Detective.”

“Bubba.” The eldest Slate brother hadn’t taken kindly to me since I’d accused him of kidnapping the Prince. He also didn’t like the time Chad spent with me. Time he used to spend helping the Slates with their projects. Although Chad still helped out from time to time, Bubba didn’t care for me ogling the Prince while he was working. I loved watching him pound nails, all bare-chested and sweaty in the sun.

He gave me a surly look. “I hear you’ve come to talk to me about my relatives.”

Huh? “How’d you hear that?”

He pointed to a pine branch with a blue jay sitting on. “A little birdie told me.”

The bird rolled its eyes and its little cheeks went red. Guess Bubba meant that literally.

I turned back to the builder. “You’re right. What do you know about the Murderati gang?”

He lifted a shoulder. “Not much.”

“How are you related to them?”

“Distantly. Very distantly. The Rind side of the family.”

Okay. “When was the last time you talked to them?”

“Heck, I don’t know.”

What was he hiding? “You can’t tell me where they hang out?”

“How should I know that? I’m a respectable business man. I don’t have dealings with gangs.”

“You never see them? What about family reunions?”

He just grimaced and shook his head.

I rocked back on my heels a moment. “You know, Bubba, withholding information in a murder investigation is a criminal offense.”

He raised a cloven hoof and shook it at me. “Now look here, Missy --”

That was when the roar of a motor rang out. We turned toward the hill just as the gleam of chrome handlebars rose over the crest, and three pink creatures in black leather and chains rolled toward us on -- what else? -- hogs.

We stood in silence as they neared, and I saw they were smaller, even less appealing versions of the Slates.

Hunched over their lowriders, snouts sniffing the air, they revved their engines, and started to slowly circle us. Sharp teeth stuck up over their jowls. Their black leather jackets had “Pigs Rule” etched on the back. There were three of them. Why did swine always come in threes around here?

“Get out of here, Deke,” Bubba growled at the one who appeared to be the leader. “And take Dakota and Dante with you.”

“Hey man, it’s a free kingdom,” Deke sneered. “You can’t tell us what to do.” He sounded like a snotty teenager.

“I said, get lost. We don’t want your kind around here.”

“What’s a matter, Unk?” cried the second one. “We scarin’ you?”

I glared at Bubba. “Unk?”

He held up his hooves. “They’re my sister’s kids. She’s always been a wild one. They didn’t turn out any better.”

Never trust the word of a pig. I turned to the piglets. The circling and the grinding of the motors was getting on my last nerve. “Is this what you did to Snow White? Harass her like this?”

“Maybe,” the smallest one, Dante, snorted. “She didn’t like it, either.”

“Yeah,” the second one, Dakota, giggled. “We drove her crazy.”

I bet. “You know she’s dead.”

“No, she’s not.”

Chad had had enough. Stepping in front of Deke’s cycle, he grabbed the handlebars with his bare hands. “Halt!” Gosh, he made my heart fluttered when he did things like that. If only he didn’t have such a wandering eye for the ladies.

The piglet cowered up at him. His two brothers nearly collided into each other as they came to a grinding stop.

“Who are you?” Deke wanted to know.

“Your sovereign.”

The piglets’ mouths dropped to their drive trains.

With as an authoritative air as I could muster, I strode toward them. “What did you have to do with Snow White’s murder?”

They all looked at each other in terror. “Is she really dead?”

Deke gave Dakota a shove. “I told you you shouldn’t have threatened her, dude.”

“Hey, man. It was your idea.”

“No way.”

“Who’s idea was the apple?” I demanded.

“Wha-what apple?” Dante blubbered.

“She was poisoned with an apple.”

Deke folded his hooves across his chest. “Don’t know what you’re talking about, man.”

Chad leaned toward him with a growl. He looked so fierce, he made my blood dance in my veins. “Perhaps if I took you to my father’s dungeon, you’d be more forthcoming.”

The piglet let out an ear-piercing squeal that was worse than the motor revving. “Not the dungeon. We didn’t do it, honest.”

“It wasn’t us,” blubbered Dante. “It was that witch.”

“What witch?” I asked.

“You know. The Queen. Her stepmother.”

Ah hah. I knew there was a stepmother in this somewhere. “How do you know she did it?”

“We were cruisin’ the far side of the kingdom a couple days ago where she lives,” Deke shrugged. “Somebody said she was cooking up a poison apple for Snow.”

Dakota snorted. “Yeah. Her castle’s way gnarly.”

I narrowed my eyes at the piglets. “Did any of you
see
her cooking this apple?”

They shook their heads.

“How about an old woman in a black cape heading for the drawfs’ cottage? Did you see that?”

“No.”

I exhaled impatiently. “Why would Snow White’s stepmother poison her?”

Deke rolled his eyes. “You know. Jealousy. The stepmother thinks she’s all that.”

“Yeah, she hates Snow. She’s always had it in for her.”

“Do you believe them?” Chad whispered to me. His face was riddled with doubt.

I put my mouth to his ear. “Do you think these piglets are innovative enough to murder someone with poison?”

“Good point.”

“Time for a trip to that castle.”

His face hardened. “Very well.”

I turned back to Deke and stuck a finger in his face. “Don’t leave town. Don’t any of you pigs leave town.”

They all nodded vigorously and gave me a salute. “Aye, aye.”

Dante looked like he might faint. “No way, man.”

I turned back to Bubba. “These kids might shape up with a little discipline.”

After giving me a scowl, he scratched at the hair on his chin as if he thought that might be a good idea.

It was late afternoon when we got to the other side of the kingdom and I was worried.

“What kind of system of jurisprudence do you have around here?” I asked Chad.

“Do you mean the courts?”

“Yes.”

“An excellent one, if I do say so myself. We have magistrates and judges elected by the town council. Every two years we –”

“What kind of evidence do you need to convict someone of a crime?”

Now he saw where I was going. “Good evidence. You have to prove your case.”

Just like in my world. Guess things didn’t come easy, no matter where you were. Even if I could get to this stepmother, all I had was a rumor about the apple and how she hated her stepdaughter.

Chad stopped walking and pointed ahead. “We’re here.”

Just before us rose a tall, gray castle with dark inky towers and turrets, and a murky cloud rising out of the mist that made my blood run cold. Not exactly a place for a party.

Surrounding the castle was a wide moat. The drawbridge was up. On the rampart, I could see well-armed guards marching back and forth. “I don’t think they’re going to break out the red carpet for us.”

“Probably not.”

I gestured toward the structure. “How do we get in there?” The two of us trying to storm the place would have about as much impact as a Wet Noodle Posse.

Chad rubbed his chin for a moment. “There might be another entrance around the back.”

“Let’s check it out.”

We made our way toward the rear of the fortress, fighting through rubble and rock. The structure seemed to go on forever, but at last we came to a clearing. As we neared it, we heard music.

We took shelter behind a couple of large boulders. Peeking over one, I saw a large, manicured courtyard edged with flowery trees and thick bushes.

In middle of the yard was a grassy patch. On a large mat, a short woman was prancing around in time to the music, which I could now see was coming from a CD player.

She had on a tight pink exercise outfit, with platinum hair piled a mile high on her head and flowing down her back like Niagara Falls. Big pink loops dangled from her earlobes. With a figure that would give Dolly Parton an inferiority complex, she was gyrating around and doing karate moves in time to the song in front of a large mirror.

“Where you from?” she sang off key, pointing at herself at the glass. “You sexy thang.”

It was then that I noticed that behind the woman’s reflection in the mirror was a large, metallic face. No body. Just a face -- smiling and bobbing along to the tune.

She wiggled her bottom and pointed with the other arm. “You sexy thang.”

Now I’d seen everything.

I eased toward the mat and called out, “You really think so?”
 

She froze. The music stopped. Must have been on a sensor.

Slowly she turned around, brows to the sky. Instead of being flushed from the workout, her face had that pasty, too-many-surgical-procedures look. But her thick-black-liner fringed eyes bore holes into me with the precision of a dentist’s drill.

“Who the hell are you?” She said in a thick southern accent.

Chad stepped forward with all his debonair charm and made a flourishing bow. “Allow me to introduce ourselves. I’m Prince Thrugood and this is Detective Alexander.”

I attempted another curtsey and nearly fell over my feet. Gotta work on that move.

Dolly didn’t budge. Guess some royalties didn’t hobnob with other royalties around here.

Chad straightened. “And you are?”

“Queen Brunhilda.” She eyed us like we were lepers. “Y’all are trespassing.”

I ignored her. “We’re investigating a murder and we have some questions to ask you.”

Her hand went to her throat dramatically. “Murder?” She gasped the word like she’d never heard it before.

“That’s right, uh, Brunhilda. Is that your real name?” Sounded fake to me.

“You ought to call me Your Highness.” She pulled her shoulders back, as if trying to make herself look taller, which wasn’t too regal with that Dolly Parton shape and the tight pink sweat suit.

Chad folded his arms across his big manly chest. “No, she won’t call you that. Not while I’m here.” Sweet boy.

I took another step toward her. “That’s right, Brunny. We think you know something about said murder. Spill it.”

I felt a strange tingle along my arms. I turned and saw the mirror was making a nasty face at me.

Brunny daubed at her forehead with a towel, then strolled over to a table and took a sip of lemonade from a glass. Didn’t offer us any. Casually, she picked up the end of her hair and studied it like the answer might be in her split ends. “Well I declare. I have no earthly idea what y’all are talking about.” She’d turned from Dolly Parton to Scarlett O’Hara.

I cleared my throat. “We’re talking about your stepdaughter?”

She wrinkled her nose. “Who?”

“Snow White?”

She tapped her chin as if trying to remember. “Oh, her. I haven’t talked to her in ages. She’s such a spoiled little thing. So self absorbed. We don’t really get along, though I’ve tried my best to be good to her.”

I inhaled slowly, trying hard to be patient. “She’s dead.”

Brunny’s eyelashes fluttered, then she clasped her hands to her chest. Now she was Sarah Bernhardt. “No. It can’t be. Wait. I think I might faint.”

“Don’t you want to know what happened?”

She grimaced, like she wished she’d thought of that. “Of course, I do. What happened to my poor, poor stepdaughter?”

“She ate a poisoned apple.”

She waved a hand in front of her face. “Oh my. How perfectly dreadful. But accidents do happen. Where is the FDA when you need them?”

My arms felt like they were burning. I looked back at the mirror and saw the eyes were glowing and spinning. That thing was trying to put a hex on me.

“Somebody gave her the apple on purpose,” I said to Brunny. “Somebody wanted her dead.”

She sucked in air. “Why it must have been one of those awful dwarfs she’s been living with. I told her not to take up with those nasty little men.”

“I thought so, too at first. Then they told me about the Murderati.”

Brunny sucked in more air. “Those horrible pigs in that motorcycle gang? I’m sure they’re the ones who did it. Why, what a smart detective you are for figuring that out.”

“I am pretty good. But I don’t think they’re the murderers.”

“Oh?”

“No, I think the murder is closer to home.” I started to stroll around her, hunting for a clue. Good, I was, but I’d never get a conviction without hard evidence. If only I had something on this witch.

She fanned her face with the end of her towel. “Why, whatever do you mean? What are you looking for?”

“Don’t know yet.”

Now the darn mirror was glowing, its eyes whirling like little tornado.
Don’t look over there
. It was trying to send me a telepathic message.

I glanced around the yard and spotted something at the edge of the lawn a few feet away. Ah hah. An apple tree. With a nice thick bush growing beside it. I marched straight over to the bush and peeped behind it. And grinned. “Well, well, well. Look what I found.” I pulled the branches back to show Chad.

His face beamed with pride. “A cauldron.”

Hot dog. “Looks like we’ve been making some homemade brew here, haven’t we, Brunny?”

“It’s my brother’s. He’s visiting from Tennessee. He has to make his liquor, you know.”

I sniffed the air, recognized the garlic odor. “Smells like arsenic to me.”

Her eyes grew big. Instead of answering, she spun around and took off across the lawn. Chad grabbed for her and missed.

I was on her like a flash.

I chased her down a sandy path along some hedges, with Chad right behind. Blond hair and sweat and boobs flew everywhere. Beside us, the hedges made way for a lake and the ground became wet and sandy. I sloshed through it, but it was slowing me down. I had to do something.

I spat out Brunny’s hair and perspiration, made a lunge and grabbed onto her pink butt. We went down with a thump. She took the brunt of the fall. Landing on her, I was pretty well padded. But she didn’t give an inch. She punched and clawed and bit at me. We rolled around in the sand, appendages flailing. We must have looked like a couple of mud wrestlers.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Chad trying to intervene, but he’d obviously never seen a girl fight before and didn’t know what to do. Too bad he’d diverted my attention. Brunny seized the opportunity and swiped at my cheek with her nails, like a big pink cat.

“Yow!” I cried, holding my face. That did it. I reared back and socked her in the jaw.

Her head fell backward and her eyes rolled in her head.

Turning her over, I grabbed her hands, yanked them behind her.

“What are you doing?” she said groggily.

“Arresting you.”

“Arresting me? How dare you? I’m a Queen. I’ll sue you for false arrest. PI brutality. Mussing my outfit. Not to mention my hairdo.”

“Yada, yada, yada.”

Chad held her while I dug for the restraints in my pocket.

“You weren’t lying to the pigs about that dungeon, were you?” I asked him, pulling the nylons tight around my prisoner’s wrists.

“Absolutely not.”

Brunny revived. “Dungeon? But I’m innocent. It was that Magic Mirror over there. It’s had me under its spell for ages.”

“There’s one way to fix that.” Chad picked up a hand-sized stone, wound up and hurled it toward the courtyard. The rock hit the mirror dead on and smashed it into a thousand pieces. The face yowled, then grunted, then was silent. Good shot.

No seven years bad luck this time.

I looked back at Brunny. She was exactly the same as before. “Sorry, honey. No dice.” But wasn’t she supposed to turn back into a witch?

“Confession time. You gave Snow that poisoned apple, didn’t you?”

Her eyelashes fluttered. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“C’mon out with it. We’ve got your cauldron. You dressed up like an old woman in a black cape and took the apple to the dwarfs’ cottage. Didn’t you?”

“I did no such thing.”

Chad bent down and looked her in the eye. “The guards in the dungeon will go easier on you if you tell the truth.”

She paled. “Okay, okay. I poisoned the apple. But I didn’t dress up like an old woman.”

Now I was confused. “How’d you get the apple to her then?”

She rolled her eyes, giving up. “FedEx.”