A Twisted Dive AUDIOBOOK, Pixie Twist #3

“No murders today?”

Kami plopped down next to me on the bench at the west end of the pier. The morning sun wasn’t high enough to warm my back yet, so I wrapped my hands around the warm cup from Beanzies. 

I cocked an eyebrow at her. “What? I’m not the detective. It’s only been a month or so since our last two murders. We don’t need more.”

“You’re making quite a name as a sleuth.” Kami sipped from her coffee cup. I smelled caramel. She was partial to the lattes—with extra syrup, since she was a pixie.

Kami wore her St. Maurice Police Department Beach Patrol uniform, shorts that showed her dark legs, and a short-sleeved navy-blue polo. Over that, she wore a dark windbreaker. Police was embroidered on both the polo and the windbreaker. SMPD was emblazoned across her ball cap.

“Early shift today?” I asked. 

“Yep. Me and Harold. I’ve got the pier area. He’s got the wheels, so he gets Beach Patrol. I left him to talk to Mort at the Dog Hut.”

“Ah… Mort said it’s time for the annual mini-dragons games or some such. He’s hosting.” I chuckled. “Probably waiting to put in a catering order for chili-cheese dogs.”

“Ugh… Dragons eat those?” She suppressed a shiver. 

“Mort does. Says he loves them better than English bangers and mash.” 

“Patrols…” Kami’s radio crackled. “10-57 Oceanview Arms Hotel.”

Another voice sounded right after.

“Unit B-19 is 10-17. ETA three.”

I sipped my coffee, then turned to Kami. “Was that Harold?”

“Yep. With the SUV, he’ll get up to Ocean Avenue faster than I can. I’ll let him take the call.”

“I’ve seen you fly. If you pop pixie, you could be up there in less than a minute.” 

She could, too. Kami was athletic, even for a pixie. Instead of competing in the all-pixie leagues in high school, she’d played sports with the tall fae and usually dominated the local leagues. 

“I could…” She let that hang. “But I wouldn’t get to hang out with my friend at the end of the pier and watch the boats head out.”

“You missed most of the morning boats. Even for a Sunday, they’re already sailing.” I took another sip. “What’s a 10-57?”

“Either a hit-and-run or a missing person. Either will keep Harold occupied for an hour. Dom’s coaching him, so Harold now overdoes the paperwork.” 

I sipped my coffee. Real coffee. Second-cup kind. Not the vanilla latte with extra syrup—that was my first cup. I still squeezed extra honey into the dark-roast brew. We pixies love our sugar. 

“Let’s hope it’s someone just sideswiped a parked car.”

“Yeah, we don’t need another missing person to turn into a murder.” Kami grinned and tapped my arm with her elbow. “Our amateur sleuth pixie needs a break from all that. She’s got houses to sell. Needs her commission to afford new clothes for dates with the hunky undead boyfriend.”

I ignored her teasing about Chaz. She was correct, though. I was having fun buying a new outfit for each of our date nights. “That reminds me, it’s time to head down to LA for a shopping trip this week. Wanna come with?”

“Of course. You must have got a big commission.” Kami grinned.

“Just about got Larry ready to close on and take possession of the Poseidon Apartments,” I said. “Just waiting on his incorporation paperwork to get filed. That’s supposed to happen on Friday. As long as it does, we can close Monday, and I’ll get a commission check.” 

I heard the pier boards shift behind us. 

“Ladies. Top of the morning to you,” a male voice sounded along with the footsteps and the rumble of a cart rolling along. 

“Hiya, Gus,” I called. “Got a charter this morning?” 

“Not today, lass. Just the three of us. Erik and Ralph can get the Sea Dragon ready while I catch my breath.” Gus leaned back against the railing. Our bench was about five feet back from the railing and just to the side of the open gateway to the ramp down to the boat dock. A Welsh Corgi, dressed in a striped sailor shirt, sat next to Gus.

“Aye, Pops!” Gus’s son, Erik, said. “Did you replace the crystals in the radio?”

“Still on back order,” Gus said. 

Erik shook his head. “Pop doesn’t like newfangled contraptions. Keep telling him the crystal radios are subject to faerock surges.”

“Didn’t need a radio when I sailed here in 1804, lad,” Gus said. “Now get the Sea Dragon ready and take the pooch with you. I’ll rest here with the ladies.”

Neither man looked like they needed to rest from the walk down the pier. The father and son duo were tough to tell apart and in excellent shape. Both tall and thin, with weathered good looks and toned bodies. Both served as volunteer lifeguards on the beach when they weren’t out with a fishing charter or salvage operation. 

Gus, a true Scandinavian, sported a blond crew cut with a touch of gray creeping in, and striking blue eyes. Erik, born in the US, had a darker blond, almost brown head of hair. Erik had green eyes, though. Almost the same shade as mine. 

Erik grabbed the handle of the cart and tugged it toward the ramp down to the dock. Only a few ships got to moor alongside St. Mo’s old faerock amusement pier. Gus’s Sea Dragon was one. And only because Gus paid rent for a charter boat and deep-sea fishing office here on the west end. The other was the shuttle boat from the Tiger, St. Mo’s gambling boat out in the bay.

“Come on, mutt, let’s get her shipshape,” Erik called over his shoulder toward the corgi.

“I am no mere mutt, you lackey,” Ralph called. He trotted with his short legs to keep up with Erik. “I am a thoroughbred Welsh corgi, from a long line of hunters.”

“Corgis are herders, silly mutt,” Erik called from the ramp. “You can herd the fish for me and Pops today.”

“Herd fish? You insult me, lackey.” Ralph the corgi turned toward Kami and I. “Ladies, please give my regards to Mortimer of the Bluescales. Let him know I am on patrol today. Should any miscreants seek to wreak havoc upon our bay, I shall disrupt their plans and earn the praise of St. Maurice’s dragon.”

“He’s a mini dragon,” I corrected him.

“For a warrior of my size, Mortimer is a dragon,” Ralph said. He sat and raised back on his haunches, front paws off the pier. He had to duck his head, but he managed a halfway decent paw-to-forehead salute.

“Please inform your father that I shall alert the Pixie Air Wing if we encounter anything that needs their attention. Most disturbances, Mortimer and I should be able to handle on our own.”

“Right-o! I’ll let my father know.” I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing at the corgi. He tried so hard to be a fighting dog. But a corgi, especially one in a sailor’s striped shirt with a sailing cap strapped to his head, couldn’t pull off the menacing look of a shepherd or a Doberman. 

“Off you go, lad,” Gus said. 

“How did you get such an interesting familiar?” Kami asked Gus once the corgi trotted down the ramp.

“My ex-wife wanted us to find matching familiars. She picked Ralph’s sister, who got all the magical talent in the litter. They’re perfect for each other. Since I’m not much of a wizard, Ralph is fine. He’s great with navigation, though. Got me through a few fog banks. And his low belly gives him good sea legs.”

“He seems quite the warrior.” Kami leaned forward to peer down at the Sea Dragon. 

“In his dreams, he is. Poor lad. Got a bit of an inferiority complex. Always looking for approval. We make a good pair.” Gus tipped his white captain’s hat to us. “Ladies, please excuse me. I want to get in a good day on the sea with my son before tourist season overwhelms us.”

“A father–son trip? I always enjoyed those types of days with my dad. He learned to pilot human aircraft just to take me up with him.” My gimpy, half-formed left wing meant I corkscrewed when I flew. My father, commander of the Pixie Air Wing, took up flying real aircraft just to include me in his life as wing commander.

“Of course,” Gus said, then headed down the ramp.

“I should head out, too.” Kami stood. “You staying here?”

I nodded and raised my tablet. “Great morning for it. I’ve got a juicy murder mystery here, one that someone else gets to solve.” 

“I’ll come back around later on, probably in about an hour. If you’re still here, we can grab an early lunch?”

“Sure.”

Kami tossed her paper cup in the trash bin, then popped pixie and flew off over the north beach.

There was something about sitting at the end of St. Mo’s Pier, staring off into the Pacific Ocean. Something that lulled me into not wanting to do much. I flipped open the cover on my tablet but didn’t get more than a page into the new ebook before my eyes were back on the waves. Our harbor didn’t have the steep drop-off right here, which made waves break well for surfing. The far north end got those. The slope here was enough, though, that about every tenth wave would break and rumble under the pier.

I pulled my eyes back to the mystery book. Two pages in, and I wasn’t sure yet if I was following the victim or the sleuth. I glanced up, trying to remember the narration on page one.

“Twiz! Hey, Twiz!” 

“Oh, hey, Larry.”

“Faerocks! You’re tough to wake up when you’ve got ocean face going.”

“Yeah… sorry.” I glanced at my watch. “Wow! Kami said she’d be back in an hour, and it’s almost time. I must have been daydreaming.”

“Nah. I know you well enough. You get vacant eyed just staring at the water. Lot of people do. Ocean eyes, my Mom calls it. A longing for the sea.”

“I’m not a sailor, nor merfolk. Why would I get ocean eyes?”

“Maybe because you’re a pixie and don’t fly well?” Larry toggled the joystick on his power chair and spun around so he was more or less facing me. “I mean, like, since you don’t have the sky, maybe your brain is compensating by drawing you toward the sea.”

“Maybe.” I wasn’t so sure. “Did you get your corporation paperwork filed?”

“Lawyer said we’re clear to close on Monday.”

“I will get that set up. You have a time preference?” I pulled my phone out of my purse and grabbed a handful of twizzle-bits, my licorice nibbles I kept for sugar snacking. After tossing a couple in my mouth, I offered some to Larry. He nodded and held his hand out like Hoppy always did. Palm up, fingers wiggling.

“Thanks, Twiz.” He tilted his head back and dropped all four in his mouth at once. “No preference. Mom said she’d watch the store to cover for me as needed.”

I tapped out a text to the listing agent on the apartment building Larry was purchasing. 

“I’ll let you know as soon as I hear back. Manny will need to check with Penny Parler to see what her schedule is. And a week after we close, your money will be funding a new dive boat for Diego’s Dives.”

Larry nodded. “I heard Penny was pushing to get it named after her.” 

He held his hand out again and grinned. I laughed and dropped more licorice into his palm. After he chewed through those, he looked at me with a sly grin. 

“Did you hear who was out on Diego’s boat yesterday? You might get to sell her a house here in St. Mo.”

I shook my head. “Someone famous? Or wealthy?” 

“Both. Misty Greene. She has her entourage with her.” Larry got that giddy look guys get whenever they’re thinking of a hot date prospect. “Wonder what she’s doing here?”

“On a Diego’s Dives boat. My guess is: diving?” I shrugged. “Blonde bombshell from Hollywood. I’ve read that she’s a demanding soul who is never happy.”

“She’s nearing the end of her career this go,” Larry said. “She’s about the same age as Nikki Flannigan. Nikki’s already retired so she can reset her identity. Misty Greene should be doing the same soon. Though being out with her entourage won’t help that happen.”

I had only met a few Hollywood types, so I had no idea what an entourage comprised. The Flannigans didn’t come with one. But like Larry said, they were resetting their identities. We long-lived fae needed to do that since we didn’t age like mundanes. 

“I should stop in at Nikki’s tea shop this week and check in on how they’re getting along here in St. Mo,” I said. 

“Check out her shop’s new logo. I designed it for Nikki,” Larry said with a smile. “NaughTea Nibbles was too good a name to pass up working on.”

The buzz of pixie wings fluttered behind me, and Kami landed on the open end of the bench, away from where Larry and his power chair sat. She popped into human size and slid into a sitting position.

“Well, found out who the missing persons report is on,” she said. 

My phone as well as Larry’s buzzed with an alert tone. 

“That would be the alert notice now.”

“Oh! Crud!” Larry’s face slid into a shocked expression. “Misty Greene is missing. Didn’t come back to the hotel last night.”