Page 3 of Be A Detective, They Said. It’ll Be Fun, They Said

Neerie all but wore a tinfoil hat. Since her divorce from a wealthy gargoyle, she’d become a little unhinged. More so than usual. From the moon landing was fake to Prince Charles was a vampire because, apparently, he’s related to Vlad the Impaler, she knew every last kooky theory going.

I’d heard from some who’d once been part of her inner circle that she’d fallen down the rabbit hole, joined groups with like minds, but I didn’t necessarily listen to gossip and I tried never to participate.

Marty rubbed my arm in sympathy. “Let’s worry about why she left the cat holding the bag later and sell some baked goods, so we can give these kids a winter carnival they’ll never forget.”

So far, everything was going according to Neerie’s plans. If I shut out her constant jabber about banning books and what was allegedly going on with the school board and her belief they worked for the Illuminati, I didn’t ignore how she handled school events. I’d paid attention, and it was paying off.

As I looked out over the gym with its dozens of tables stocked full of baked goods, as people milled about, chatting, smiling, enjoying a sweet treat, I felt good about picking up Neerie’s pieces.

Mrs. Goodfellow, Sam’s social studies teacher, approached me, her expression hesitant. She looked as though something was troubling her.

And just when everything was going so smoothly.

As she passed under the basketball hoop, I smoothed my skirt and ran a hand over my updo. I don’t know what it is about a teacher, maybe I still felt they held a position of authority, but I always wanted to make sure I was presentable.

A nun with a ruler and a surly expression can scar you for life.

But everyone loved Mrs. Goodfellow. Tizzy Goodfellow was an elf, an ancient by most standards, and about as adorable and as far from the opposite of the cranky nuns who’d taught me in school.

Sam adored her and her use of magic to teach the children about nature and various types of birds, with whom she communicated regularly, enchanting her students no end.

As she held out a hand to me, her lively eyes—eyes that usually danced—were clouded. “Mrs. Jefferson,” she said, her voice tinkling like a wind chime.

I smiled warmly. “Mrs. Goodfellow, it’s so good to see you. How are you?”

She gripped my hand in her aging one, her pointed ears wiggling frantically. I have to tell you, when I see the paranormal in their element, when humans are nowhere around, it still tickles me pink to see their behaviors unhidden from prying eyes—to see them where they can be their true selves.

It was a shock at first, mind you, when I’d been exposed to what a human would surely call frightening. Fangs, shifts, wings, scales…you name it, I’d seen it.

But since settling into my role as a halfsie, I appreciated when I was allowed to let my paranormal flag fly.

She patted my hand as though consoling me for something I was unaware of. “Oh, I’m fine, dear. Just fine. May we speak privately?”

“Of course. Let me get someone to help monitor and I’ll be right with you.”

She smiled and pointed to the hall outside the gym, flitting away, her petite frame almost dancing as she went.

I looked around for Solange Martin, another PTA member, and waved her down. “Could you man the battlefield? I have to have a quick word with Mrs. Goodfellow.”

Solange was one of the younger mothers on the PTA, a sweet, gentle cougar-shifter single mom, and positively terrified of Neerie. She’d only just joined the PTA and she tried so hard to fit in. A people-pleaser extraordinaire, she was taken advantage of more often than not and it infuriated me no end.

“Is everything okay?” she asked, her dewy skin radiant under the sun, now pouring into the middle of the gym from the windows above the bleachers with gusto.

I smiled gratefully, giving her arm a squeeze. “Everything’s fine, Solange. Fret not. I’ll just be a sec.”

I made my exit before she could ask any more questions. The poor thing was so insecure, always worried she’d done something wrong—no matter the situation.

Pushing open the door of the gym, I met Mrs. Goodfellow in the hallway by a row of lockers, where she waited with Neerie’s sister, Naida. The latter was pacing and wringing her hands, very unlike her. I’d only met her once or twice, but of the two sisters, she was the lesser of both evils.

“Mrs. Goodfellow, how can I help you?”

Her expression grew worried, her eyes almost fearful. “It’s Mrs. Lincoln. I told Naida maybe we should talk to you. I know you have a detective agency, and this feels like something you might be able to help with.”

I looked to Naida, so similar in looks to Neerie with her darting green eyes, small features and hands like tiny bird’s wings, always flitting in expressive gestures.

I frowned at the state she was in. Her rosy cheeks were tearstained, her eyes swollen, her gamine face pale. “What’s going on, Naida?”

Leaning into me, almost as though she were afraid to tell me out loud, she whispered, “Neerie is missing!”

I blinked at her, automatically sensing something was awry. Her scent was a riot of different emotions. Fear. Panic. Worry. “Missing? For how long?”

Naida gripped my hands in her trembling palms. “Almost two days now! I don’t know what to do, but Mrs. Goodfellow said you could help. I’ll pay whatever you want, just please help me find my sister!”

I fought a sigh. Help find my PTA nemesis? The woman who treated me like her servant and spit on every idea I had?

Ugh.

Be a detective, they said. It’ll be fun, they said.

See me have all the fun.

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