A Glimmer of a Clue by Gerber Daryl Wood

Author:Gerber, Daryl Wood [Gerber, Daryl Wood]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery, Fantasy, Paranormal, Contemporary
ISBN: 9781496726360
Amazon: 1496726367
Goodreads: 55598095
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 2021-06-21T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

Garden fairies come at dawn, bless the flowers,

and then they’re gone.

—Anonymous

Joss rose from her chair, righted the one on which she’d propped her feet, and said, “By the way, Renee Rodriguez phoned. She has those pots you ordered.”

“Terrific. I’ll pick them up.”

Renee Rodriguez, the former police officer and better half of Dylan Summers, if I did say so myself, owned Seize the Clay, which was situated in the Village Shops across the street. The pottery shop supplied all the eight-inch hand-thrown pots we carried. Some were glazed; some were natural; all were unique. Renee had been making pottery since she was a girl and had always deemed it a hobby until she realized she wanted to leave law enforcement. She had staffed the place with eager employees, and within a week of opening, business had soared.

Before heading to Seize the Clay, I sent Ulani Kamaka a quick text asking whether she’d learned anything new about Tish’s daughter. She wrote back immediately; she was working the case. I hoped Fiona was right and Ulani did possess good detecting skills. I didn’t press the reporter about confronting Elton Lamar. I didn’t want to divert her focus.

Speaking of focus, where had my sweet fairy gone? I scanned the patio for her but didn’t see her. I asked Pixie where Fiona might be. My Ragdoll meowed as if wondering herself, and then hopped onto a chair, curled into a ball, and fell fast asleep.

So much for feline curiosity.

I decided Fiona must have gone out for a fly-around with Merryweather. A fly-around, she’d explained a few weeks ago, cleared her mind. Sometimes she and her mentor rode fairy horses, which could zoom. Occasionally, Fiona went off by herself and flitted from tree to flower, drinking in the beauty of nature. I tried not to worry whenever she disappeared. She was growing more responsible by the day. I was pretty certain the queen fairy would be pleased with her progress.

“See you in a few!” I yelled to Joss as I left the shop and crossed Lincoln Street.

Similar to Cypress and Ivy Courtyard, the Village Shops were tiered and a staircase wound through the center. Unlike our courtyard, there were a lot more units; three of them boasted two stories. An attorney, a dentist, and a hot yoga studio occupied the upper floors.

Seize the Clay, which stood to the left of Hideaway Café, beyond the art gallery, and faced 7th Street, sported a new A-frame sign on the sidewalk. The sign noted all the events the shop provided: pottery classes, kids’ camps, baby imprints, hand-building—which turned out to be sculpture—and private parties.

As I entered, I took in the white walls and white shelving as well as the aroma of wet clay and the scent of artwork fresh from the kiln, and I instantly felt the calm Renee promised to all customers who ventured inside. Soon, I’d have to succumb and throw a pot. As creative as I was, making pottery did not come naturally to me.

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