Faerie Dust Dead (The Luna Devere Series Book 2) Read online

  Faerie Dust Dead

  Book 2 of the Luna Devere Series

  by

  J.M. Griffin

  A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes. . .

  Copyright © 2014 Jeanne Paglio

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without prior written permission of the copyright holder, except by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  Sounds of breaking glass brought me upright in bed. I strained to listen, wondering if I had dreamed the noise or really heard it correctly. As I flung my bedcovers aside, Riddles, my fat and lazy cat, softly complained over the disturbance I’d created by waking him. Moving slowly through the apartment toward the stairs, I felt my way down and into the dining room, before moving across the floor to the shop. The gift shop section was connected to the dining room of my business, Faerie Cake Junction. A draft whistled along the edge of jagged glass of a broken window. I’d heard the sound before and its familiarity gave me the willies.

  I peered about searching for someone who could still be lurking there. Gift wrap fluttered in the cool breeze, which drew my attention to the splintered pane in one of the windows at the farthest end of the room.

  Though only minutes earlier had I heard the glass breaking, brisk October air already chilled the first floor. Who had created the draft, and for what reason? Surely there could be no good explanation. Mother Nature’s air freshener, by way of fall foliage decay, permeated the shop. This, the last hurrah of leaves and vegetation, held a slightly sweet, yet fusty scent. I shivered and rubbed my bare arms as I quickly searched the premises.

  In the wee hours of the morning, the street lamp at the edge of the parking area beamed light across the lot and in through the windows. My heart pounded as I nervously switched on all the interior lights and viewed the room. Aghast, I counted several missing pieces of artwork and I made a mental note of all the shelves, stands, and racks with empty spaces. My anger mounted. The culprit had only wanted one specific thing from my shop: Arianna Gentile’s glasswork.

  “Darn it all,” I grumbled while pacing the room. “What will I tell the police?”

  With his usual bored and slow-moving countenance, Riddles sashayed into the room and gave the air a sniff, before he jumped onto the sales counter to watch me. Maybe he thought I’d finally lost my mind, or possibly, he didn’t care one way or another. Regardless, he sat there, immobile as a statue.

  “Well? Do you think I should call the police, or what?” I asked Riddles. No answer.

  Reaching out, I scratched his ears and listened to him purr. “You’re right of course. That’s the only smart thing to do. Since the sheriff has been replaced with a decent fellow, I can rest assured this time I won’t be treated like an idiot.” I grimaced though there was no one there with e to see it. As if to reassure me, the cat sniffed my fingertips, rubbed his massive head against my hand, and purred like a chainsaw in idle mode.

  Emergency phone numbers lay taped to the counter next to the cash register. I’d called the station so often in the past and knew the dispatcher, I bypassed using the 9-1-1 emergency number. When the call went through, Deputy Dave Moss identified himself and asked for my name, and my problem. Taking a deep breath, I tried for calm. Angered and put out, that someone had broken into my business, and having the added grievance stolen stuff, the attempt was futile. Calm was not my middle name at the moment.

  Upon identifying myself, I said, “I’d like to speak to the sheriff.”

  Hesitating for a fraction of a second, Deputy Moss responded, “He’s not in yet. What can I help you with, Miss Devere?”

  “There’s been a break-in, here at Faerie Cake Junction.”

  “I’ll send an officer out right away,” he promised. “Are you sure the perpetrator is gone?”

  “I’m sure. There’s been a theft, but I’m alone.”

  “Stay on the phone with me while I send Officer Alder to your home.”

  The line went silent for a few seconds before Deputy Moss spoke again. “Turn all the lights on, and wait for Officer Alder to get there. Is Devin with you, or is he still with the in-laws?” Moss asked. Moss had become a regular in my life when I’d been involved in some dangerous episodes earlier in the year. He was familiar with me, Faerie Cake Junction, and was good friends with my fiancé, Devin Radford.

  Walking through the two rooms and into the hallway, I flipped on every light switch, brightening the entire place, inside and out. “Devin’s still away,” I said. “I’m not scared, only upset over this intrusion.”

  Moss continued to chat while I waited for the cruiser to arrive. How long we talked of mundane subjects was anyone’s guess. I didn’t doubt for a moment he was intent on keeping me focused on the conversation, rather than worrying about my losses while awaiting Officer Alder’s arrival.

  When an approaching siren’s blare suddenly cut out, and bar lights flashed in the front windows I heard the police cruiser draw to a stop in the parking lot. My assumption was correct. Stan Alder quickly left his car and headed toward me. I told Moss Alder had arrived, hung up, and waited at the open door.

  While I watched Alder climb the steps to the shop, I thought of Devin. As a well-known, and much-sought-after carpenter in this part of southern Maine’s coastline, I’d hired him during the summer to do some work for me. One thing led to another and before I knew it, we were engaged to be married, but our nuptials had recently been put on hold for business reasons. How would I tell him about this break-in without him worrying? I’d have to consider the best way to share the news.

  My tea and cupcake shop serves not only fantastic cupcakes, if I do say so myself, but also offers distinctive ‘fairie ware’ gifts that are mainly produced by local artisans. A variety of faeries made of glass, leaded window hangings depicting the lovely creatures, and a host of hand-blown statues in many sizes were only part of the faerie ware. Several of Arianna’s most recent and delightful pieces were missing. The talented woman had a workshop and homestead that bordered my property. It was far enough away that I couldn’t see her house, though I could easily wend my way through the wooded path behind my shop and arrive there quicker on foot than by car.

  As a business owner and cupcake maker, I never have mundane or boring moments. I believe in faeries and that they visited me often. Happily, Devin, my fiancé is also a believer. During the summer, I’d had a run of bad luck by way of dead people that had been deposited at Faerie Cake Junction. The sheriff, at the time, hadn’t believed I had no part in their demise and wanted to arrest me for murders most foul. During all the hoopla, he’d tried to claim I was barmy, and insisted I be charged and sent to the funny-farm. Thank goodness nobody, well, almost nobody, believed him.

  I opened the door for Officer Alder and nodded when he dipped his head in greeting. Alder, a tall gangly man reminding me of Ichabod Crane of The Legend of Sleepy Hollow fame, glanced around my tidy dining room. He jumped when the spring-loaded front
door closed with a snap. I walked alongside him and motioned toward the gift shop.

  He scanned the room. “Have you touched anything, Luna?”

  I shook my head. “I just did a quick check for what’s gone missing, and then called the station.”

  He arched a brow and slanted a cool look toward me. “What’s been taken?”

  “Arianna Gentile’s glass artwork, which consists of her faerie statues and leaded glass window decorations. She delivered a new batch about a week ago, and I had only sold two of the pieces.” Tapping my lips with my forefinger, I thought for a second and added, “That means about a dozen or so pieces were taken sometime after I went to bed last night.”

  With a nod, Stan made a note in the small pad he carried. He checked the window and glanced at me for a second. “The top part of the glass was actually cut with a glass cutter and the rest was broken from this window. Did you notice that?” He pointed to the area that was rounded.

  I shook my head and pointed to the porch. “I saw the glass was missing, but didn’t realize it had been cut. There are shards here on the floor, the rest of the glass must be out there.” I motioned toward the porch.

  Together, we went outside onto the wide porch that wrapped around the entire building. It’s useful because customers can sit outdoors in warm weather to enjoy their tea and cupcakes. My exterior motion sensor lights glinted off the round pane of glass atop the table nearest the window. The screen had been slashed and then peeled aside, leaving a gaping hole.

  Nervous, I slid my hands into my sweatpants pockets, and waited to hear Stan’s thoughts. He didn’t seem like the brightest bulb in the bunch, but I try not to judge.

  Clicking the radio attached to his shoulder clip, Stan asked that McMurphy be sent over to dust for prints. He turned, explained the process, and motioned for me to return inside. The cold night wind gave me the shivers anyway so I heartily agreed, and scooted indoors.

  Time was moving quickly. I gazed at the clock, figuring the hour against early morning cupcake making, and knew that at this rate, the cupcakes would be late making their grand entrance this morning. A sigh escaped me as I considered how long McMurphy might take to do his job here. Hot anger burned in my gut over this incident, and the inconvenience of it. Wanting to be more in control, I fought hard to tamp down the raw emotion. Even so, my sense of frustration grew and I strode to the window.

  Through the window’s gaping hole, I explained my timeline to the officer. “I need to start making the day’s cupcakes; will you be all right here?”

  He smirked slightly and then smiled full on, changing the entire appearance of his long face and hook nose. His eyes sparkled with humor and his features softened. He would never be handsome, but at that moment, his face held sweet appeal. “I’ll accompany you to the baking room. Let’s make sure the intruder didn’t steal anything from down there.” He licked his lips and chuckled. “We all know how tasty your cupcakes are, Luna.”

  When Stan entered the dining room, I joined him and said, “Thanks. Today’s cakes will be late if I don’t get a move on.” When I hurried ahead of him, Stan moved in front of me and blocked the doorway leading to the basement, where all cupcake baking took place. He gestured for me to follow and slowly, he descended the stairs, with me close on his heels. On tiptoe, I peered over his shoulder with every step.

  The creation station, where delightful morsels were made, and the adjacent office, were both empty. Countertops gleamed under bright lights of the spotless area and Stan gave me the go ahead to begin making today’s cupcake confections.

  “This is a pretty neat place you have. No wasted space; it’s very streamlined,” he commented as he gawked around and double-checked the under my made-to-order cupboards and my desk in the office. With a smile, he said, “This carpentry work had to have been done by Devin; I’d know his trademark anywhere. He’s a talented man.”

  “He renovated the space during the summer,” I answered and began pulling supplies from a few of the tall cupboards.

  Stan’s radio went off. Scratchy-sounding words filled the silence. He looked at me and said, “I’ll check in with you before I leave…”

  He turned his back to me and answered the call, “McMurphy here.” Stan hiked the stairs and disappeared from sight. It was time to do my job, and let Stan do his.

  Lost to cupcake making, soon dozens of scrumptious flavored cupcakes were in the oven. And still, McMurphy was doing his thing in the gift shop. I tapped my foot impatiently, wanting to remove the last batch from the oven.

  The sound of shoes clomping down the stairs gave me pause, and I watched Stan come into view. I dropped the frosting bag into the nearest bowl and leaned against the counter.

  “We didn’t find one print. You’re sure you didn’t wipe the windows and frames?” Stan asked with a puzzled look on his face.

  “I know better than that, especially after this past summer. If you didn’t get prints, then the thief knew what he was doing.”

  He agreed with a nod. “The suspect must have worn gloves.”

  “Did you leave a mess for me to clean?”

  “Unfortunately, yes,” Stan said. “Sorry, Luna. McMurphy left remnants of dusting powder where the thief entered, on the door that might have been used as an exit, and on the spaces you had pointed out.”

  “Okay, thanks for that,” I said on a sigh.

  Stan offered an apologetic smile while he eyed the cupcakes lined up for customer consumption. I handed him one and suggested we tape cardboard over the window before he left. He stuffed the cupcake in his mouth while nodding his head.

  Annoyed over the intrusion and theft, I removed the huge apron – wrapped in sarong fashion around my body – and slapped it on the counter before I stamped up the stairs to take stock of the gift shop.

  The room wasn’t as bad as I expected. It seemed McMurphy had concentrated on small areas and those could be cleaned in no time flat. A good job for one of my help staff. After Stan helped cover the gaping hole in the window, he took his leave and I checked the time. Good grief, I had to finish embellishing the last of the cakes before my two workers showed up.

  Readying filled trays for their ride up to the main floor in the dumbwaiter, I added the last thin chocolate crown when a thought struck me. How would I explain the loss of the fairy ware to Arianna? I rushed upstairs and out onto the back porch. The sun had risen and sparkled off moisture-laden shrubs.

  “Faeries, are you there?” I called softly and glanced around the yard with my palms outstretched.

  A whisper of faerie wings brushed against my hand when a petite blue faerie fluttered to a stop and perched there lightly.

  “Called us, you did.” She folded her diaphanous wings against her body.

  “Good morning, sweet faerie. A theft occurred during the night. I wondered if any one of you saw a stranger lurking about.”

  “Ask, I will. Fine, you are?” she asked in her sing-song manner.

  “I’m well, thank you, but upset over the intrusion and the things that were taken. Please tell me if the others saw anything unusual take place.”

  “No sides, we take,” she said as her wings spread, fluttered, and in mid-air held her in place.

  “I understand,” I assured her.

  With a sweet smile, she flapped her translucent wings, butterfly-like, and flew away, drifting gently on the breeze. I returned indoors.

  A few moments later, the back door opened. Annie, my number-one helper and friend – a tall, raw-boned woman with an odd sense of humor laced with a no-nonsense attitude – stepped into the hallway. Her smile died when she saw my expression. I guess my anguish over the theft was plainly stamped on my face.

  “What’s the matter, Luna?” Annie asked, tossing her coat onto a hook in the hall closet.

  “We’ve had an intruder.” Describing the stolen merchandise, I watched her somber expression.

  “Gee whiz, we just got over a weird summer, and now this.” Annie shook her head. “I
don’t know if I can handle another bout of shenanigans.”

  I’d had similar thoughts while baking the cupcakes, but I’d managed to shove the unwanted and worrisome notion aside. It was time to face the fact that we might be on our way to another mystery. A mystery I hoped didn’t include death, danger, or a crazy sheriff.

  “If Dilly could clean the fingerprint residue from the gift shop before customers arrive, I’d appreciate it,” I said. “Let’s bring the cupcakes upstairs before I get dressed for work and then run over to Ari’s to give her the bad news.”

  With a nod, Annie settled at the dumbwaiter door while I bustled downstairs to load tray after tray of scrumptious cakes onto the shelves inside the small elevator.

  Once the last batch was on its way, I went to help Annie place the luscious tidbits into the huge, chilled, glass cases. We’d finished the job when Dilly scurried in through the back door, followed by a gust of wind.

  “Good mornin’. Sorry I’m so late. I couldn’t get my car started. Had to have Harve, my next door neighbor, come over and give the old beast a jumpstart.” With a disgusted expression, Dilly shook her head.

  “Good thing you have such a nice neighbor, Dilly,” I said and when she headed for the shop I hastened upstairs to change clothes. Once that was done, I pulled a pashmina wrap from the downstairs hall closet, swathed it around my shoulders, and headed into the kitchen. “Annie will explain the job I have for you this morning. I have to run out for a little while.”

  Darting a glance at each woman, I requested they open as usual and promised I’d be back soon. Annie nodded as Dilly opened her mouth to ask a question. Of the two women, I considered her to be a major gossip. If gritty news was floating around, she shared it with anyone who’d listen. While the gossip wasn’t always accurate, the woman did manage to insert a truthful nugget of information into each story, and it was up to the listener to ferret the tidbit out. I quickly escaped her curiosity with a wave and left by the back entrance.