Broomstick - Inspector Wolfe Tales, #1 - Part Two

“Peacelock Tom Thumb, Grade Three,” said the short man in the black coat. “What’s your name?”

“Wolfe,” I replied ominously. “James Wolfe.”

“When’d you find him?” asked Thumb, squatting down and looking over Aleck’s body.

“This morning,” I replied. “Early. You’re awfully short.”

“I know that. Got any manners?” Thumb said, rising up to full length (which was about four and a half feet). He balled his fists, and his face flushed red. “I’ve got to investigate the scene. I could file you for obstruction of the law.”

“And I could gobble you up like a cheeseburger,” I replied haughtily. “Get on with it.”

Thumb made a bad face and leaned over to look at Aleck. “Aleck Shipton, eh? Brother of the Alice Shipton, mirror spelunker and scout?”

I nodded. “That’s the one. What killed him?”

“I don’t know,” snapped Thumb. He turned away and motioned to the other people in the squad carriage. “Tweedle Dee! Tweedle Dum! Get out here!” he shouted in his annoying voice. “And turn off the stupid werelights!”

I turned and looked at the squad carriage, putting a hand over my eyes to shield myself from the blinding rainbow strobe lights on top of the vehicle.

The lights suddenly shut off with a clanking noise, and the door to the squad carriage opened. Out came two men, exactly the same in every respect except for one dissimilarity. Each was average height, wearing the standard black button-up shirt, pants, boots, and jacket of the Peacelock Department; and each had dark hair and skin; but one of them had a pink livid scar across his right cheek.

“What is it?” asked the one with the scar, whose stitched-in nametag on his jacket said “Tweedle Dum”.

“Yeah,” piped up Dee. “What’s the matter?”

Thumb gestured to the dead body. “Him. He’s in perfect condition, except for the fact that his heart’s not beating. What happened to him? Poison?”

Dum got out a notepad and pencil, and Dee started talking. I watched as the twins did their work in profiling and analyzing the body. Dee said, “Six foot, white, blond, blue eyes, husky.” Dum’s pencil scratched quickly. Dee continued. “Uninjured, muscular, wearing black unmarked jacket.” Dee got down and gently turned over each of Aleck’s hands, looking closely. I watched in fascination. “Left-handed.” Dee checked all his pockets and said, “Pockets empty—oh, wait.” He pulled a folded piece of paper out of Aleck’s back pocket. “One document in left back pocket.” He unfolded it. “White new paper, folded into eighths and tucked into pocket; typed message, some sort of recipe. It says, ‘One teaspoon gremlin ash, quarter pound wolfsbane, three tablespoons flour, one cup spider blood, two drops mandrake sap.’” Dee went over the rest of the body, but found nothing else of interest.

I nodded in approval as Dum finished up. “All right, Dee. Got it all.”

“You betcha,” replied Dee. “Now let’s get this body in a bag and take it back to HQ for more in-depth analysis.”

Thumb nodded. “All right. You two bag him up. I’ll get the suspect ready for his official statement back at HQ.”

I felt my fur bristle when he called me a suspect. I really disliked this Thumb character. “I already said what happened when I scried the Peacelocks. And what’s this about me being a suspect?”

Thumb smirked. “Well, the Peacelock Department likes to interview people in person. With truth potion. Just a precaution. If you resist, I will have to take you forcefully.”

“Thumb, I’ve got better things to do,” I growled. “Let me go.” I took a step towards him.

He backed away and pulled out a stunbow, a miniature crossbow with a pixie-enchanted bolt. He cocked it. “Not one more step, Wolfe,” he warned. “Or you drool in the grass.”

The Tweedle twins returned from inside the carriage lugging a body bag, but both stopped short at the scene unfolding before their eyes.

“On your knees!” barked Thumb. “Hands behind your head.”

I snarled but complied, getting down on my knees and placing my paws behind my canine head. Thumb motioned for Dee to cuff me, and the scarred twin swiftly moved round behind me and locked some enchanted cuffs around my wrists. “Clear,” he announced when he was done.

Thumb escorted me into the back of the squad carriage while Dee and Dum bagged Aleck’s body. A question occurred to me right as Thumb was listing my rights. “You have the right to remain silent. You have the right to have counsel present during questioning. Anything you say can and will be used against—”

“Uh, Thumb,” I said. The short guy looked at me angrily, cheeks flushing red. I forged on, knowing that by making this guy angry I must be doing something right. “Why did only one squad carriage come to the scene? I reported a murder. There should have been at least two more Peacelock carriages and an ambulance.”

“National holiday for Peacelocks. Half staff today, and the rest get a day off tomorrow. Now shut your mouth.”

“What holiday?”

“It’s Broomstick Day. Where we remember the 47 Peacelocks who were killed or injured during the arrest of Hilda Boomstick, famous outlaw witch.”

I should have remembered that one, having read tons about criminal justice and its history. But I guess I was just flustered about what had taken place. I couldn’t really blame myself. There was a dead man being loaded into a body bag, a dead man I had discovered. Plus, just that morning I had been contacted from the Mirror Realm by Alice Shipton, one of the most prestigious people of all Faeraway.

Murder and Namenapping. If it weren’t for these idiot policemen, I should be following the only lead I had. Alice had mentioned the King’s Men. I knew it must be important, and it all had something to do with Aleck Shipton, my client’s brother. There was death in the air, no question. And on a day when the police force of Faeraway, the Peacelocks, was halved; this was rather suspicious to me.

But who knew? Until I knew otherwise, these things could be absolutely coincidental. But either way, something fishy was going on.

Then there was the matter of the list in Aleck’s pocket. That was no mere shopping list. Sounded like some death brew, to me.

Dum and Dee hoisted the body in back of the carriage and got in, Thumb went up to the driver’s seat, and the unicorns started galloping. Thumb switched on the sirens.

Broomstick - The Inspector Wolfe Tales, #1 - Part One

My name is Wolfe. You’ve probably heard of me as Big Bad. Indeed, I did infiltrate the Nocturne gang with the title “Big Bad Wolfe”. Two months later, the gang was shut down by order of Faeraway Law, due to my extraordinary blackmailing abilities, and eighty-seven members were acquitted of various crimes. Several other of my exploits have been rumored, such as my arresting of two of the Three Pigs Brotherhood. The third, my arch-nemesis Oinkiarty, slipped away however. I have yet to confront him directly, although I have recognized his hand in several of my more shady investigations.

This case, as anyone involved could tell you, was by far one of the most exceptional ones of my career. The case of the Donshire witch was my very first success. Thus I wish it to be known to the public.

This was eight years ago. I was bleeding money trying to get a proper degree at Peacelock College of Criminal Investigation. It was all I wanted. I lived in a shabby apartment across from the main campus, and I had a job at Muffin Man Bakery, on Drury Lane. The pay was enough to keep me comfortable, but I needed more if I was going to get into that university. I got the cheapest rent in town, in the inn “Sleazy Fox”. It was owned by Woody, a fox who was, as one might guess from the inn’s name, sleazy. But he put me up for barely any money, and the space wasn’t all that bad.

I looked myself in the mirror and studied the dark brown fur on my face. It was sticking out in all directions, and I knew I needed to get a haircut soon, whether I liked it or not.

My yellow wolf eyes stared out at me with a calculating look, as if scrutinizing my soul. I stared back. And then something strange happened. My reflection reached out to the surface of the mirror. I looked at my arms. They were still.

My reflection was pointing, I realized. And I turned.

The ghost was a wispy girl, with long strands of hair strewn all over her shoulders. Her deathly eyes sparkled like moonlight. I did my best to keep my composure.

“Who are you?” I asked gruffly.

“Who I am is not important.” The words were breathed like cold sharp icicles. I shuddered. “Who I was, however, I shall tell you.” She faded into a pale cloud of mist, which soon dissipated into nothingness.

I turned back to the mirror. My reflection, the wolf that I was, stared back at me. Beside my reflection was the ghost girl. In the mirror her whole body, clothed in a white gown, looked cracked and fragile, like an old forgotten teapot. Her face was very pale, and radiated a white glow that probably wasn’t good for my health. Her eyes were strikingly alive, though, and fierce, compared to the rest of her body. They were a deep blue color, like oceans were contained deep beneath the rippling surface.

“Inspector James Hamilton Wolfe, at your service,” I said, because I didn’t know what else to say and the silence was getting kind of awkward. “Didn’t catch your name.”

“I know who you are,” she said, quietly, as if she didn’t have enough air. Fair enough, I reasoned. Not much air in a mirror, right?

“My name is Alice,” said she. “Or it was…until I was trapped in the Looking Glass.”

I frowned. “Trapped in the Looking Glass? But you’re the Looking Glass Explorer. It’s impossible for you to get trapped; you know every inch of the Mirror Realm. I’ve read about it.”

“Well, I am trapped. And my name is gone.”

“Your name? You mean you’ve been turned into one of the Nameless?”

“Yes. I don’t have any essence anymore. Something took my Name.” Her breath was icy and seemed to unravel into words as it hit my chilly ears. “I don’t know what, but…” The glow around her began to pulse and fade. She began to shrink, and her form seemed misty. “I’m fading,” she said. “Quickly! You have to help! Go to the King’s Men! My brother Aleck…” She disappeared into mist.

It seemed I had an investigation on my hands. I had to save Alice, and her brother Aleck had something to do with it. I waggled my eyebrows in excitement. A job offer, from none less than Alice herself!

I got my coat on, grabbed my walking stick, and raced downstairs, my bushy tail thumping on the floor as I raced into the common room. Woody was in there, at the bar, talking with a large man in black clothes. Lizzie, his little fox pup, was sweeping the wood floor. I ran past them and opened the front door. I sped out of the inn before Woody had a chance to say hello, into the street.

Someone was spread-eagled on the ground across the cobbled street. I rushed forward, heedless of a carriage rolling past, and a horse shoved me to the ground with a nervous whinny.

I got up, dizzy, and ran to the person on the ground at the side of the road. Under the shadow of the inn across from the Sleazy Fox, the golden rays of the morning sun lighting the morning up, I turned the man over onto his back and checked for a pulse. Nothing. And the face looked familiar. Wait…who was it? My mind raced and my heartbeat sped up. And then, quite suddenly, it hit me with a jolt, and I staggered back up onto my feet. Aleck.

The pale face stared hollowly out at me; those sharp cheekbones and the blond tousled hair-do that would have melted any maiden’s heart in life now appeared terrifyingly frightening in death. Aleck was dead. It couldn’t be coincidence.

I had a murderer on my hands, and an abductor of Names. And already my mind was sprinting to find the solution.