A Little Bit Spacey (A Riddler's Edge Cozy Mystery #9) by A.A. Albright

Author:A.A. Albright [Albright, A.A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-10-22T22:00:00+00:00

15. Broken Brain

After Dylan’s update, Greg and I had to reluctantly concede that it all seemed like a neatly tied-up, non-magical case, with my forgotten sojourn to Riddler’s Edge being the only loose end. It was just like me to be the fly in the ointment, the wasp at the picnic, and the rain on the parade. But at least I could be trusted to never put the kibosh on the clichés. Ahem.

The mystery of Greg’s curious eating habits was also, thankfully, a thing of the past; he’d purchased lollipops, peanuts and an enormous chicken and stuffing sandwich on the way back from the farm.

Grace and my mother were covering for Greg and me at the festival, and they’d be putting the newspaper together, too. I did notice a flush of excitement on my mother’s face as we talked about it, which was incredibly lovely. She was a far better cook than me, so she’d be the perfect person to write about this afternoon’s chilli cook-off and tonight’s pie baking competition.

And, while Grace and my mother did their part, Greg was up in my old bedroom. He had given me a very long and technical explanation of what he was about to do, but although I totally understood him, I think it’s sufficient to say he was fiddling with the charts and twiddling with the telescope.

Jared was busy too, out on the prowl for Peter and Shirley so we could question them. Luckily, the temporary staff had arrived at the Vander Inn just in time to enable his prowling. The newbies were currently cleaning some of the bedrooms – Pru had gone through a magical agency, so they shouldn’t get any shocks when Maude came by to help.

So there was really nothing for me to do except to lie here, on Pru’s bed, feeling very uncomfortable. I could actually feel her in my brain: there were little jolts and stings as she tried to fish around. My dad had told me that, because my sióga power was growing, this would be a difficult task for Pru, and my brain would put up all sorts of painful resistance. But he’d promised me that if I relaxed and trusted her, she should be able to recover my hidden memories.

Unfortunately, he hadn’t told me how to relax.

‘Stop fidgeting,’ said Pru.

‘I’m not fidgeting.’

‘I don’t mean with your hands. Your mind is so wound up. I can hear a million thoughts right now – about how you think my earrings are pretty, about how you hope your mam is enjoying being a reporter again even if it’s just for today, about how you’re glad Greg got his Hollow Legs diagnosis because now he’ll always have a pocket full of snacks, how you’re wondering if you should have started looking at wedding dresses by now, because Dylan’s already decided on his suit and he’s itching to get on with his cummerbund choices, but you know that he wants it to match the flowers, and you haven’t even begun to think about those.

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