“Mmm, it smells so good in here.” Saliva drenched my mouth and spurted out before I could close my lips.
Imani, waiting with me in Tulsi’s Indian restaurant for our takeaway, screwed up her face. She frantically wiped her cheek. “Gross, Lily. You even contaminated my lips. Your salivary glands are out of control. Calm them, please.”
I pressed my lips together, then held my palm over my mouth as I spoke… just in case some rogue drops shot out. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it. You don’t have to worry, though. I don’t have any diseases or anything.” She looked at me, one eyebrow elevated. “Well, it’s not like I can take it back. Do they have a bathroom here? Maybe you could go wash your face?”
An Indian lady dressed in a vibrant green sari approached us with two plastic bags. Phew, saved. “Here’s your order, loves. Enjoy your meal.” She smiled.
I grinned in return and took the bags. “Thank you. This smells delicious.” Imani gave me a side-eyed glance. We turned and left.
Once out on the footpath, a burst of high-energy, almost hyperactive magic slapped the back of my skull before dissipating. That was weird. I looked at Imani. “Did you feel that?”
Her gaze flicked up and down the street. “Yes.” There was nothing obvious out of place.
“It was strong. Should we be worried?” My heart beat faster because even though I didn’t have the feeling of being watched, it was possible that RP—Regula Pythonissam, the group who were after me—were out there, observing. I threw up a return-to-sender spell just in case.
“I don’t know, Lily. Whatever it was, it’s gone now.” Imani’s phone rang. “Hello, James. Yes.” Imani looked across and down the street a bit. “Okay. Yep. Bye.” She turned to me. “I have to attend a potential crime scene, which happens to be that antique shop over there.” She pointed to where she’d been looking a moment ago—at a two-storey white semi-detached building with the sign Castle Antiques Centre mounted on the building above the glass shopfront. Like many English buildings, a dormer window at the top of the building indicated there was liveable space in the roof cavity.
“I love antique shops. Lead the way. Actually, what sort of crime? We’re not about to walk into a shop full of blood and guts, are we?” Because that wouldn’t be fun, obviously.
“Stolen items that just popped out. The owner’s a witch, so she called the PIB straight away.” Imani looked both ways and crossed. I stayed on her heels. The owner met us at the front door.
The thirty-something-year-old had brown hair in two braids, one over each shoulder. She was a fellow nail-biter, a finger currently in her mouth. She didn’t even bother taking the finger from her lips when she spoke. She eyed us. “Are you from the PIB?”
“Yes. I’m Agent Jawara, and this is my assistant, Lily Bianchi.” Imani wasn’t in uniform today, as she technically didn’t start her shift until three, but she pulled out her ID and showed the woman.
The shop owner held out her hand—the one that had been partly in her mouth—for Imani to shake. Imani looked at it, paused, then quickly shook it. Ew. I gave the woman a quick nod and folded my arms. I didn’t want to give her the impression I wanted to shake her manky hand.
“Thanks for coming so quickly. I’m Lissa.”
“Why don’t you take us inside and explain what happened? I’ll need to get an inventory of what was taken, and if you have any photos of the missing items, that would be helpful.”
“Of course.” She turned and led us inside.
The stale smell of old furniture and the fresh scent of eucalyptus oil seeped from the pores of the quiet interior. It was mildly pleasant, and, for a moment, I could’ve been in the past.
We reached a wider spot in the narrow path threading through tightly packed furniture and shelves holding plates, teacups, vases, and all manner of collectable knick-knacks. Lissa halted and pointed to either side of the aisle. “This side had a pair of 19th Century Doulton of Lambeth Plinths.” She turned. “This side had a round Regency mahogany four-seat dining table. All up, they’re worth around five-thousand pounds, give or take.” She frowned.
Imani made notes in a small notepad. “When did you notice they were missing, and how did you discover it?”
“It was about five or six minutes ago. I was sitting behind the counter”—she nodded at the counter at the back of the shop—“looking towards the door, and I felt a bit of magic; then they just popped away. I don’t even know how that’s possible. No one was here to cast a spell on them.”
Imani pulled out her phone and took photos of the spaces. She mumbled something, and her magic grazed my scalp. Imani smiled. “We have a signature.” She said, “Symbol, you’ve made an impression on me. I’m taking your image and sending it to the PIB.” She looked at Lissa. “Someone would have had to come in here at some point and cast the spell that would eventually have taken the furniture away. Do you have security cameras?”
“No. We don’t normally have a problem with theft, and I have mirrors everywhere, so I can always keep an eye out.”
I looked around. Rounded convex mirrors were positioned near the ceiling in each of the four corners, so she would have had a good view from wherever in the shop she happened to be. Imani’s gaze landed on my face. She raised an eyebrow. Did she want me to take photos? But we couldn’t risk anyone finding out what it was I did. I gave a quick head shake. Imani turned back to the woman. “I think we need more formal photos. I’m going to get my assistant to take them. Do you mind?”
She shrugged. “If you think it will help. Okay.”
“You can wait at your counter if you like. We won’t be long.”
“Fine.” She made her way behind said counter and sat on a stool but continued to observe us.
Since she was a witch, it was fine for me to magic my Nikon to myself. I placed the two bags of food on the floor, took the lens cap off, turned the camera on, and pointed it at the aisle next to where the furniture used to be. I didn’t want to say anything out loud, in case Lissa heard me. Show me who stole the furniture that disappeared today.
The lighting changed slightly, and I turned towards the window. It was raining on the day the items were spelled. I turned to face the back of the shop where Lissa sat. A man stood between me and her, blocking my view of the counter. He was side-on to me, touching one of the plinths. Unfortunately, he wore a baseball cap pulled low over his face, sunglasses, and a thick brown beard covered the rest of his face. His long coat hid his build. The only meaningful information I could get was his height—about five ten—his hair, and white skin.
I wanted to get a shot of Lissa on that day so we could pinpoint which day the man had come into the shop. At the risk of losing the moment in my lens, I flicked my gaze back and forth from the camera to my surroundings as I moved through the shop—I was liable to knock something over since it was so cluttered.
I rounded the corner into the next aisle. There she was, in grey woollen slacks, a sky-blue jumper, and grey beanie. It must have been cold that day, which makes sense since it was winter. Lissa had been talking to an old lady, who held up a pretty plate decorated with colourful birds. I took a few shots and came around to the aisle with the thief from the other direction. Bummer. I frowned. This angle didn’t give me any more insight into what he looked like, but I snapped away, just in case something revealed itself later when we zoomed in on the picture.
I turned my camera off. “Agent Jawara, I’m done.”
“Thanks, Bianchi.” She couldn’t call me agent, so that was better than Assistant Bianchi. I smiled. To be honest, I kind of liked the sound of it. The blokeyness was cool. Imani walked over to Lissa. “Do you have photos of the items?”
“Here,” she said and turned her laptop around so Imani could see the screen. Even though I had photos of the items from the past, it would be weird if she didn’t ask for them. We didn’t want to give any inkling of what my talent was.
Imani took photos of the screen with her phone. When she finished, she slipped her phone in her pocket and pulled out her notebook and pen again. “Have you had any customers use magic in your store in the last few weeks?”
Lissa turned the laptop back around and drummed her fingers on the marble countertop. “I don’t usually pay much attention, except to make sure no one’s stealing anything. In the last couple of weeks, I’d say maybe three people? I can’t be sure, though.”
Imani jotted down the information. “Can you give me a description of those people?”
“Um… there was a young couple in here, guy and girl, and they both used magic, but it was only because he forgot his wallet, and she magicked home the chair they bought after they paid for it. There was a man in here about a week ago.” Her eyes opened wide. “Come to think of it, he was checking out the table. Not sure about the plinths, but I definitely saw him touch the table. After that, I had to help another shopper, and, actually, that’s when he used magic. It wasn’t a lot though, and I briefly checked in the mirrors to make sure he hadn’t taken anything. By the time I came around to see if he wanted help, he’d gone.”
“And what did he look like?”
“He had on a dark cap, sunglasses, and a dark jumper, or maybe a coat. He had a normal build—oh, and a beard. I can’t remember any other specifics. To be truthful, I wasn’t paying that much attention as I was serving someone else. So many people come in and out, I could never recall exactly what people were wearing. I’d be terrible picking out of a line-up.” She brought her hand to her mouth and chewed a fingernail.
“Don’t worry about it. You’d be surprised at how much people get wrong in these situations. We’ll let you know if we find anything in our database that matches the magic signature. In the meantime, if anything else happens, or something comes to mind, let me know. Here’s my card.” Imani handed her a white, rectangular square.
“Thank you. And if that man returns, I’ll definitely let you know straight away.”
A gentle smile lit Imani’s face. “Great. Do you mind if we travel from here?” We’d walked to the shop from Angelica’s, but now there was an investigation, it was likely we’d have to go straight to the PIB with the evidence.
“Not a problem. You can go back there.” She pointed to a doorway on the back wall, just to the right of her counter.
Imani picked up both bags of food. “Thanks.”
I followed her into the storage room and shut the door. Imani made her doorway. Turning to me, she said, “PIB.”
I nodded. After she left, I made my doorway and did the same.
