Donny Chandler would never tell me what I needed to know. Which was why I needed to get the hiccups.
Great.
I slunk into Tornado Taco on the corner of Main Street and Bell Avenue. The last time I was here, I made a complete fool of myself. Not my fault, but still…
“I assure you, Mrs. Marcel, this drought is going to break.” Al Bee Bee Watcher smiled at his landlady. The apartment lobby’s 1920’s décor surrounded him, clashing spectacularly with the modern computer on her desk.
“And I’m telling you, there’s no chance.” Mrs. Marcel shook her head. “Put away your raincoat, Mr. Watcher;
“Would you move, you worthless bag of feathers!” I put my full weight behind the shove I give my gryphon, but it’s no use.
He’s rooted. He’s staring. Strike that, he’s pining. He’s literally wiggling his feathery eyebrows… at her.
My forehead slumps against Griff’s furry shoulder.
Heather Dewslip ambles towards the green,
Young folk these days.
I squint between my window blinds. Amelia has another new beau—a tall, brooding fellow. They walk hand-in-hand down the street toward my house, chatting.
I frown. I haven’t met this one yet. Usually she brings them by for my inspection first, just to be safe.
They stop walking, and he leans down—
Miles—scarab beetle and humble photojournalist—strained to listen. He glanced at the surrounding trees, spectral colossi in the moonlight. A fallen log sat rotting, just ahead.
“I don’t hear anything.”
Calvin—atlas beetle and journalist—stood stock still. His three horns curved upward in a graceful silhouette against the dark horizon.
I revved my motor and slipped out of park, checking the glowing digits of the clock on my nightstand. 2:59 a.m. I’d woken just in time. It’s tough to be a crime-solving teenage car. Sometimes you have to sacrifice a little sleep.
But I had a mystery to solve.
Kai Zimer had a useless gift. People praised his voice as angelic, but what value did Merfolk have for a male siren? The two most popular career choices for Mermen were tending the coral farms or joining the military. But since he couldn’t even keep a shellplant alive for more than a week,
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“Now, see here!” Rex glared down at the little black dog sinking its teeth into his toe. “If anyone in this family should be devouring enemies, it’s me.”
The dog craned its neck to peer at the dragon. There was a moment of blessed silence. But then… “Woof! Woof-woof! Woo-oo-oof!”
“I hate my job.” Tina scowled at the curtains that separated her from the audience. “I’d rather play bingo.”
“No, you don’t.” Tello, the stage manager, shuffled his cue cards. “And no, you wouldn’t. You hate bingo.” He tugged at her arm. “Come on, your cue’s coming any minute!”
I narrow my eyes at the porker rooting through a box of graham crackers on my kitchen floor. Today, your reign of terror comes to an end.
The potbelly pig chomps down on another package of crackers. I crouch, inching past the cupboard door that hangs lopsidedly from busted hinges, victim
Pale dawn light slanted through the windows when I arrived at the Full Moon Diner. Even this early, the place smelled like stale grease and burnt coffee.
Only four tables were occupied. An old man sitting in one corner, his face haggard. A young couple holding hands. A neat-haired man reading a thick book
Apparently, poison tasted like cake. The M.A’s—aka Master Assassin’s—butler hovered over my shoulder as I stared down at the remaining crumbs. After I enjoyed every bite of the slice of cake, the butler victoriously announced he’d poisoned it.
What an idiot, a shrill airy voice whispered straight into my mind.
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