Maudlin's Mayhem (Bewitching Bedlam Book 2)

  AFTER A STOP at Freddie’s—a chain department store—I eased into a spot by the dry cleaner’s. Aegis had asked me to pick up his leather pants. He owned more than one pair, but as he said, you just can’t wear leather pants more than a few days in a row without them becoming ripe. Even though he didn’t sweat, they picked up his scent and trust me, vampire balls and dick? Give off a heady lusty scent, indeed.

  The Boys of Bedlam had a gig coming up in a week at the Rainbow Dance Machine—a new club. They usually played at the Utopia, but Jack-Az, the owner, was on his annual pilgrimage to his home in the Black Forest. Black Forest as in Germany. The crusty old bear shifter didn’t trust anybody else to run the joint while he was going, so the Utopia was closed for the month of March.

  I picked up the pants, dropped off my ritual gown, and chatted for a few minutes with the owner. As I came out of the shop, I was so engrossed in my thoughts that I ran right into a woman who was passing by, tripping her up.

  “Pardon me, I’m sorry!” I knelt by the prone woman. She was pale as cream, with jet black hair and ruby lips, and as she pushed herself up, I couldn’t help but stare. She had the biggest boobs I’d ever seen. I was big, but she had to be a J-cup at least.

  She cleared her throat. “Eyes up here, girlie.”

  I shook my head, blushing. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…” Pausing, I finally found my words. “I didn’t mean to trip you up. Here, can I help you?”

  I held out my hand and she took it, leveraging herself to her feet. She was too thin for those breasts, I thought. Either they were silicone or she wasn’t human. She was also wearing the weirdest outfit I had seen in a long time, and I had seen just about everything.

  She had on a mid-calf poufy skirt. The skirt was red, and over it, she was wearing a black dirndl apron, and a white shirt. A big blue bow was affixed to the top of her hair, looking way too goofy to even try to pass for the Lolita look. White knee socks and black patent Mary Janes completed the slightly deranged, cartoonish look. As she brushed herself off, I tried not to stare.

  “Are you hurt? I hope I didn’t—”

  “No, I’m not hurt. I’ve got so much material in this skirt I’d be well padded if I fell off a cliff.” She paused, frowning. “You have a cigarette?”

  Maybe it was time to back away slowly. “Um, no, I don’t smoke. If you’re all right—”

  “Then maybe you can point me to the nearest hotel. My friends and I need a place to stay for a few days while we’re here on…a job. Our host told us to find a hotel because his is fully booked.” She let out a sigh as if the weight of the world had just landed on her shoulders.

  I tried to keep my mouth shut. I knew I’d regret it if I didn’t, but somehow I found myself opening my lips and the words just tumbled out. “I own a bed-and-breakfast. The Bewitching Bedlam. I have two open rooms. Possibly three.”

  While Mr. Mosswood was still at the B&B, two days back, old Mrs. Periwinkle had suddenly sprung the news that she had bought a house and was leaving for home to complete arrangements before moving to Bedlam. The house happened to be next door to me, so she was going to be my neighbor. The news both delighted me and made me worry. The slightly addled Mrs. Periwinkle was going to have a working kitchen, including a gas range.

  The long shot was, as a result we had two guest rooms available, plus my private guest room that I could rent out if I wanted.

  The woman stared at me for a second, then nodded. “If you don’t mind if we double up in the rooms, that would be great. Or triple up. We can make do with sleeping bags if necessary.”

  Triple up? I instantly regretted making the offer. “I’m really not sure—”

  “Gimme your address, doll, and we’ll be over in an hour, after we finish for the day.”

  Blankly, because I couldn’t seem to find the words to tell her no—after all, I had knocked her down pretty hard—I handed her my card. She took it, nodded and started down the street.

  “Wait a minute,” I called, turning around. “I’m Maddy. What’s your name?”

  She glanced over her shoulder. “Just call me Snow, babe. Just call me Snow.”

  I SAT IN my CR-V, hands on the steering wheel, practicing my speech. “I’m sorry, but it looks like we don’t have the room after all. Here’s a brochure that lists several other hotels in the area. I suggest you try the Viola Hotel. They’re sure to have the room.” I said it over and over until it rolled off my tongue. Then I called Sandy.

  “What up?” She was panting, so I knew she was on her treadmill.

  “What up is that I think I just invited Snow White to stay at the Bewitching Bedlam.”

  The panting stopped. “Come again?”

  “I just knocked Snow White down in front of the dry cleaner’s, and ended up inviting her to stay at the Bewitching Bedlam.”

  Sandy spoke very slowly. “Honey, does your head still hurt? I thought I just heard you say you knocked down Snow White—”

  “Oh, stop it. I’m perfectly fine, except that I seem to have stepped into the world of the Grimm Brothers. Snow White doesn’t really exist, does she? I mean, this has to be cosplay, right?”

  Most faerie tales were based on true stories, but somehow the thought of Snow White being a thirty-something, cigarette-smoking, dirndl-wearing goth girl who was about to descend on my house with her dwarves had thrown me for a loop.

  Sandy was laughing so hard she was gasping for air.

  “Excuse me, but this is a real problem.”

  “Right,” she gasped out. Then, after a moment, she sobered enough to talk. “Maddy, love. Whether or not she actually exists doesn’t matter. What does matter is you have someone who either thinks she’s Snow White, is Snow White, or is playing the role of Snow White on the way to your house. If she makes you uncomfortable, tell her to find another place to stay.”

  “I hit her hard enough to knock her on her ass. By accident, of course, but I kind of feel like I owe her something.”

  “Did you break any bones?”

  “Well, no.”

  “Did you draw blood?”

  I let out a sigh. “No.”

  “Then you owe her nothing. Seriously, though, I am coming over to your place. I need to see what the cat dragged in.” She snickered. “Speaking of cats, you didn’t make any stray wishes on Bubba’s belly, did you?”

  I glared at the phone. “You’re just being contrary now. Shuddup. I have to go buy something to eat. Aegis forgot to make me anything for lunch, and he warned me that if I ate the snacks for the guests’ tea again, he would let them go hungry.”

  Sandy let out another laugh, this one from the gut. “Oh, Maddy. I’ll see you in an hour.” And with that, she hung up.

  I FINISHED MY errands—stopping at the post office to pick up my forwarded mail, then at Geek Parade to pick up my new laptop. My old one still worked but it had been making some odd noises lately, and I didn’t want to wait until it blue-screened me or refused to boot up. Last stop was at the Chicken-Chicken Shack for a bucket of chicken, coleslaw, and mac ‘n cheese. I arrived home ten minutes before Snow was supposed to come over. Sandy was waiting for me in the kitchen. Thornton had let her in.

  “He’s handy, I’ll tell you that,” she said. “And delicious to look at.”

  I stared at her. “Oh, Sandy, you didn’t. What about Max?”

  “For fuck’s sake, just because I say a man’s handy doesn’t mean—” Sandy stopped, then raised her mocha at me. “You have me there, but no, I didn’t. Nor am I planning to. I just meant that not only is the place whistle-clean, but he makes a mean mocha.”

  Relaxing, I slid into a chair at the table, setting my bags on the floor. “Thank gods, because I really don’t want to find a new housekeeper again.” I glanced around. “Say, have you seen Bubba?”

  She shook her head. “He’s probably in some snit over something. Is that chicken I smell?”

  I nodded. “Yeah, for us. Not for Snow Whi
te, or whoever the hell she is. I swear, this town attracts all types, doesn’t it?” I set the chicken and sides on the table as Sandy grabbed plates and silverware and set them out for us.

  “Well, look at the name. You name a town after an asylum, what do you expect?” She helped herself, piling her plate high. The woman ate and ate and never gained an ounce. I ate and ate, and ended up with a nice layer of padding.

  Thornton peeked in the kitchen. “A Miss White to see you…with her…friends.” The look on his face was a mix of bewildered and amused.

  “Oh, man. Show them into the living room. I’ll be right there.” I wiped my hands on a napkin and smoothed my skirt. I glanced at Sandy. “Come with me for reinforcement?”

  She snickered. “I wouldn’t miss this on a bet.”

  As we entered the living room, I found myself staring at Snow, who was now wearing a skin-tight red dress that barely covered the down-under region of her world. Standing behind her were seven dwarves. Real dwarves. As in hi-ho, hi-ho, Tolkienish grumpy men, short in stature but bulky in muscle. They were all bearded and wearing manbuns. The fact that they were clad in jeans along with muscle-tops did nothing to comfort me, nor did the fact that the room was now full of musky man-scent.

  “Hey,” one of them said. He had bright red hair and a well-trimmed beard. “We appreciate the lodgings. Every place in town seems booked up and we thought we were staying at our host’s inn, but apparently not. Mercury retrograde, you know—miscommunications are flying.”

  Behind me, Sandy choked back a snicker. I tried to elbow her but she dodged just in time. She sat down, watching with what I could only peg as a snarky glee.

  “So, who’s your host?” I figured it best to find out who had invited this group to town. I found myself wondering just what they did. Entertainers, perhaps? Musical group? Maybe they entertained at kids’ parties?

  “You might know him. Ralph Greyhoof. He runs the Heart’s Desire Inn.”

  I closed my eyes and counted to ten.

  Of course it was Ralph. It was always Ralph. I really didn’t want to know what kind of gig Snow was playing at Ralph’s, or why. I was about to tell them No dice, find another place when Thornton appeared at the doorway.

  “Maddy? There’s a phone call you might want to take. In your office.” He looked so serious that I let out a sigh and nodded.

  “I’ll be back in a moment. Sandy, keep our guests…entertained.”

  As I slipped out of the room, I ran over all the excuses I could think of as to why I couldn’t let them have the rooms. Maybe I’d get lucky and they couldn’t pay, so I could say No money, no room.

  “What’s up?” I frowned as Thornton handed me the phone.

  “It’s the bank. The lady said there’s an emergency with your account.”

  “All right.” I brought the receiver to my ear. “Maudlin Gallowglass here. How may I help you?”

  “Ms. Gallowglass, this is Amanda, down at Bedlam Star Credit Union. I’m afraid that Mrs. Periwinkle’s check has bounced. I thought I’d call you because once I process the NSF fee, it will leave your business account overdrawn.”

  Overdrawn? How the hell. I stared at the phone. “But I have fifty-five thousand dollars in that account. How could it be overdrawn?”

  Amanda let out a tsking sound. “This morning you moved fifty-four thousand dollars to your account in Dubai. The transaction was processed online. That means when we deduct the $1,420 for Mrs. Periwinkle’s check and the NFS fee, it will leave you overdrawn by almost five hundred dollars.”

  My stomach lurched. “I don’t have an account in Dubai. I’ll be right down. Don’t go anywhere and don’t process that check yet, please.”

  I slammed the phone down, sweating. I had bought the mansion outright, and paid in cash for all the renovations. That fifty-five thousand dollars was the rest of my savings. How could they have transferred all my money to a foreign account without my permission? While I was pissed at Mrs. Periwinkle for bouncing a check on me, I realized that if she hadn’t, I wouldn’t have known about this for a while. I raced back out to the living room.

  “I’m sorry, I have to go downtown to talk to the bank about something.” I stared at Snow and her retinue. As much as I didn’t want them in the Bewitching Bedlam, if my savings was gone for good, then I needed cash. “Three rooms. Sandy and Thornton will settle you in. One hundred bucks a night per room, with twenty-five dollars per extra guest. Cash in advance.”

  And with everybody staring, I raced out of the house and jumped in my car. Whoever the scammer in Dubai was, he had better pray I didn’t find out his name. Because once I found him, he’d be staked out on top of an anthill, covered in honey. Red ants. Under the blazing sun.

  Chapter 4

  “LET’S GO OVER this once again.” I was ready to smack the nice credit union representative over the head with a sock full of pennies. “I didn’t go online this morning and I didn’t transfer money to a stranger’s account in Dubai. I don’t live in Dubai. I’ve never even been to Dubai. I don’t own a bed-and-breakfast in Dubai. Why the hell would I transfer money to Dubai?” My voice rose perilously close to a screech.

  Amanda finally called the manager.

  “It’s about time. I’ve only been asking to talk to your manager for the past twenty minutes.” I was grumpy and not inclined to be particularly diplomatic.

  While Amanda ran over what had happened with the tall, professional-looking woman wearing a blue pantsuit, a tidy blond chignon, and heels that jacked her up to at least six-three, I tried to control my anger.

  The manager—whose nametag read “Emily Chambers”—sat down at the desk, motioning for Amanda to back away. Her hands flew over the keys as she examined my account. I tried to practice my deep breathing. The meditation always worked in magic, but I kept coming back to the image of a generically squirrelly scam artist, grinning as he rolled around on my money.

  “Here we go. Yes, this morning at three a.m. we logged a transaction to transfer fifty-four thousand dollars. It was automatically logged as suspicious. Normally, someone should have contacted you, but…oh dear. Oh dear.”

  That didn’t sound good. “Oh dear what?”

  The bridge of Emily’s nose suddenly furrowed as she ran her fingers along a line on the screen. “Well, for heaven’s sake, it looks like the alert was canceled by—some program that I don’t recognize. The transaction was approved and put through.”

  I rubbed my forehead. “You can transfer it back, right? No problems?” I knew I was being wildly optimistic, but sometimes grasping at straws seemed the thing to do.

  “I’m sorry.” Emily flashed me a patient smile. “We’ll return the money to your account, of course, but this is going to involve alerting the police and the FBI. This appears to be an international incident. I have to talk to my supervisor in the main branch of the credit union about how we’re going to go about this. I estimate a ten-day lag before we’ll be able to take the hold off your account. In the meantime, we’ll waive any NSF fees that come in because of this.” She beamed, as if the problem were solved.

  “You have to be joking. Ten days? I had fifty-five thousand dollars in there—” I jumped up, leaning on the desk. “I want access to my money. This is the credit union’s fault—”

  “Yes, I know, and I’m so sorry about this. But there’s nothing I can do to rush this through. But we will fix the matter, I guarantee you that. Meanwhile, I’ll raise the limit on your credit card for the next month, to give you leeway.”

  Emily Chambers quickly grabbed my hand, shook it, and took off.

  BY THE TIME I left the bank, I wanted to punch somebody hard. Or kick something. Or throw a few bottles. Or slam a fireball into the side of some building. Preferably my ex’s house. Not that he had anything to do with this, but the way the credit union had jacked me around felt exactly like all the ways he had tried to deal with me.

  I contemplated going somewhere out in the wood
s and blowing off some steam, but somehow I doubted that the wood nymphs—who were legion in our area—would appreciate my version of target shooting. Neither would the dryads, come to think of it.

  So I once again found myself pulling into the drive-thru at Bouncing Goats Espresso Shack. Gillymack was nowhere in sight, for which I was relieved. I was too pissed to laugh at his jokes or humor him. I ordered a quad-shot white chocolate cherry mocha.

  On the way home, I called the sheriff. My cell was plugged into the VOXware unit I had bought for my CR-V and I was wearing my headset. The phone rang twice and then a calm, level-headed voice answered.

  “Delia Walters here. What’s going on, Maddy?”

  “You have caller ID, I see.”

  “Yeah, I do.” Delia sounded busy, but friendly. We knew and liked each other. “So what’s up?”

  “I have a problem. My credit union should be contacting you today at some point, but I’m lighting a fire now. Somebody in Dubai hijacked my checking account and stole fifty-four thousand dollars from me. The credit union okayed the transaction rather than contacting me.”

  “Holy fuck. I’ll be over later. I’m the only one manning the fort right now, but I can come over at five, when the night shift comes on watch.”

  “Thanks. I want to find these scum suckers and smash them flat.”

  “I don’t blame you.”

  As the call disconnected, it occurred to me that I’d better run a virus check on the computer. Maybe a trojan had gotten through, or something equally as dangerous. Whatever the case, I was out a buttload of money and even though the bank promised to reimburse me, it sounded suspiciously like I wouldn’t be seeing a penny for some time.

  I pulled into my driveway and slammed out of my car, taking care not to spill my mocha. My mood had gone south about as far as it could go. As I headed into the house, through the kitchen, I found Sandy sitting there, a traumatized look on her face. Snow White and her retinue of burly men were nowhere to be seen.