Un-fur-tunate Murders by Harper Lin

Author:Harper Lin [Lin, Harper]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harper Lin Books

Atropa Belladonna

Calmly, I got in my car and drove home, changed into my new sweater, with my brooch and a pair of skinny black jeans that looked better with the loose baggy sweater than with anything else. A little red lipstick was added as a final touch, and I headed over to the café for my shift.

Now, if I didn’t feel good when I put on my new duds, I certainly did when I stepped into the café, only to see Darla Castellan. The woman was sitting by herself, typing on her cell phone with her long, manicured fingers, making an annoying click-click-click as she messaged and/or tweeted or whatever she was doing. If I had to guess, I would have said it was probably an arsenal of selfies.

“My gosh, Cath.” Bea clapped her hands together and bounced on her heels. “You look beautiful.”

“Where did you get that beautiful brooch?” Aunt Astrid asked, standing from her favorite seat, where she was organizing some of the morning receipts. I told her and Bea the whole story about Tom giving it to me yesterday and that I didn’t want to wear it until I found a nice sweater to wear it with. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Darla leaning closer to hear what I was saying. She thought she was so sly.

“It looks like they were made to go together,” my aunt gushed. “I hope you’ll let me borrow that sometime. I know just the hat it would look perfect on.”

I smiled but then froze.

“You don’t mean that blue turban, do you?” Bea spoke before I could. My aunt sometimes went a little overboard with her adventures in accessories. The blue turban she had was one of those “DON’Ts” you see in magazines all the time.

“Mom, you look like Johnny Carson when you wear that thing.”

“You’re crazy,” my aunt snapped. “I look like an exotic fortune teller from Transylvania.”

“Maybe from Portage County across the river,” I teased. Portage County was a sleepy Mayberry kind of town where the most exciting thing in the past year was the induction of a five-hundred-pound sow in the Guinness Book of World Records for most piglets born. Twenty-four.

“Oh, you think you’re so smart.” My aunt laughed.

As I laughed, I went behind the counter, grabbed my apron and a slice of pumpkin pie, and took a big bite before telling Bea and Aunt Astrid I had something new to share with them.

“It’s interesting you say that, because I spent the night looking through Mom’s Libre Monstrum, and I narrowed it down to two possible suspects.” Bea pulled a piece of paper out of her pocket. There were notes in her impeccable script written on it. “It could be a tertius harpy.”

“Tertius harpy!” I snapped my fingers. “Why didn’t I think of that? What is it?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” Bea teased, knowing full well I had no idea what she was referring to. “Tertius harpies are creatures that tag along with other, more dominant entities and wreak their havoc on the leftovers.

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