Love & Lyys

By Sara Tiger Ryan

Feon, the acting Head of the Lyy Family begs Miss Kitty's to clear the name of herm's beloved, Daquery Kline, of the charge of murder.
Unfortunately, all the evidence points to Daquery as the murderer. Only the motive is missing.
When Daquery is convicted, Feon is devastated, and Sazzy and Dusty are confused. The crime just doesn't make sense, so they continue to investigate...even though Dusty is distracted by the charming and admiring Saffon Bodacious Lyy, who is recently home from his Grand Tour.
Just as the pieces finally begin to add up into something more chilling than she or Dusty had suspected, Saffon staggers into Miss Kitty's with the news that Molly's cellar of petrified bodies has never been cleared out and that someone is living in the house on the sly.
Molly Lyy is back and only luck and fast thinking will save Miss Kitty's and friends from becoming part of Molly's collection of petrified bodies.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sara Tiger Ryan
• Release date: Nov 17, 2020
• ISBN: 9781005202941

Sara Tiger Ryan

Sara Tiger Ryan was born in New Hampshire. She now lives in Florida with her 2 cats. Make that minus one charming boy cat, add in a Mama cat who brought me 5 kittens--all of them adorable! Sara started writing novels in 1973 in high school study hall and hasn't stopped (for long) yet. She started out writing fantasy and added mystery. She also writes metaphysical non-fiction. Ryan was active in the small press in the mid 90's, and had her own 'zine, Star Triad.

Book preview

Chapter 00

The Youngest Sinister Fate

The Youngest Sinister Fate, pushed aside the curtain separating the Fates’ Realm from the mortal realm and gave a desultory flick of herm’s fingers. Time, events, and mortals flashed by. Nothing new or interesting in the 1400’s. Several mortals on the verge of big changes clinging to their old lives in the 1500’s. Chay sighed and slumped, propping herm’s chin up on herm’s fist. It was nearly the end of the season of change. It was the second week of the Wild Fates even. Usually herm’s Wild Fate friend would have stirred something up by now.

There were only three days left before Sidewise Season, for mortal’s sake! If herm didn’t find some big change soon, herm was going to have a really boring season. And even though Sidewise Season belonged to herm and herm’s sibs as much as to the Shifting and Gaudy Fates, the Gaudy Fates tended to claim the whole season as their own.

Some mortal should be doing some big, fun change some where.

But everyone in the mortal world seemed to be trying to make their life as humdrum as possible.

Chay slumped further. Mortals sure were stupidly slow to change. Unbelievably, some of them were even scared of change...even good-for-them changes. Chay rolled herm’s eyes. Change was the funnest thing herm knew of, all full of excitement and sparkling new, interesting stuff.

If some mortal didn’t do something soon, herm was going to go stir something up hermself...even though herm’s older sibs always complained when herm meddled.

Maybe Miss Kitty’s Private Spy Agency had a fun new case... though at last check, their Queen had ordered them to take a long, do-nothing-at-all vacation.

Chay gave another flick of fingers that cycled into the late 1800’s. Drat, Miss Kitty’s was still taking things slow. Dusten Kincaid sat on his ugly, sway-backed couch writing. Sazzy Jinn curled in her favorite purple chair reading a Miss Nellie, her three cats curled up around and on top of her. Herm sighed and flipped into the 1900’s.

Wait! Who was that?

Chay stopped the cycle of time and flipped back to the last of the 1800’s, watched a second, then grinned, sprang up and did cartwheels around the room. Yipee! Yipee! Yipee! Kijo! Bri! Come see!

Kijo and Bri, the Youngest Kissing and Wishing Fates, arrived in a flashes of sparkly blue and amethyst light. What yipee?

The whole country of Conyor Ness is going to get some Bi-i-ig Changes! Saffon Bodacious Lyy is finally headed home!

Chapter 0

Prodigal Son

1898, Changing Fates Season 8

Wild Fates Entire 2

KnifeKissingday

Saffon Bodacious Lyy leaned on the railing of the ship and watched the shore of his home country drift closer though the gathering steel-blue dusk. Seven years ago his folks had sent him on a Grand Tour of the Thunderlands—which usually lasted two years at the most. He still felt ambivalent about returning home.

It wasn’t as if his Family needed him for anything, his younger brother Shalin had inherited the bulk of the Family talent.

Shal’s Family talent must be at fifth level by now. The Emporiums had already been calling his younger brother in to verify information starting before Shal had gotten out of basic school. His brother should be out of school all together now...and probably directly in line to become at least assistant head of the Emporiums. It would be good to see Shal. If his younger brother hadn’t changed too much, become too indoctrinated into the Family, and lost his streak of daring.

Speaking of daring, he wondered if his older sister was still racing or the Family had beaten her down. Just before he had left, she had been wild about carriage racing, even to secretly joining the Rose Racing Club. His mother, at first, had thought Savory was actually sweet on one of the racers. He had stopped by the club on his way out of town and seen, rather, his sister’s passion was for flashy carriages and daring racing feats. She treated the racers like extra brothers. He remembered being impressed by one of those racing buddies, Dandy Jinn. But Dandy was probably at least handfasted by now and wouldn’t be interested in a talentless Lyy boy.

Saffie pushed back from the railing.

It would be dark by the time he disembarked.

He hadn’t sent his time of arrival ahead.

It would be tempting to just turn around, reboard the ship and head back down river, away from Family pressures and politics.

Politics. He had heard Gran Molly had lost her bid for ruler ship of the country to a Zamkrye woman with some odd name. At least the magicmongering Sardonic Yght no longer served as King.

He was going to hate being home.

Saffie tucked the book he had been reading in his backpack. He’d picked up the book in Gallimaufry because it had been written by one of his countrymen. It had been an amusing read so far. The thing that had snagged his curiosity first was its publisher: Brackett Books, Vantage, Conyor Ness. His Family published most books in Conyor Ness. He had never heard of Brackett Books. But he supposed there had been many such changes in his country and his home town of Vantage in the seven years he’d been gone.

Chapter 1

The King’s Ball

KnifeKissingday evening

Sazzancy Delcious Jinn.

Sazzy lifted her head from the budget she was reworking for her and Dusty’s private spy agency and eyed the speaker who stood in her office doorway.

Prince Lyzan lifted one blond eyebrow. He was dressed exquisitely in dusky lavender silk and had his usually windblown, curly blond hair pulled neatly back. He said, You forgot Papa’s ball is tonight.

Oops! The King’s Ball, the last party of this year’s Social Season; the Prince had invited both her and her private spy partner, Dustan Kincaid.

Dusty echoed her ’oops’ aloud from his office and she heard his chair scrape across the floor.

The three of them arrived at the King’s ball fashionably late, earning the Prince a dark look from his mother, who stood talking to her mother and sister. Lyzan blew his mother a kiss. His father, the King, her Uncle Ian, was dancing with one of her ex-best friends, Vivalda Lyy. Vivalda made sure not to look her way. Sazzy skimmed her gaze over her mother and sister before they noted her.

She had a Prince’s hand to take and she did. Dusty tweaked her chin and headed for the refreshment table.

As Prince Lyzan led her into the forming dance, he asked, How long do you think you have before your illusion-busting talent lays you out flat.

You do say such romantic things, she teased, but touched the magic-deadening sap chain link on her bracelet to check. The crowd wore just as many illusions as she had expected for the royal end of the season dance.

Lyzan rolled his eyes at her. I could tell you how well my brass kissing school is going instead.

How well? she asked sincerely. After all, she had money invested in said school—and brass kissing lessons every week.

I had another big influx of Cousins sign up yesterday, and someone came all the way from Gallimaufry to attend. Did you— He stopped and his attention veered to someone behind her.

Sazzy twitched, but didn’t impolitely turn to see who might be coming up behind her.

Prince Lyzan rubbed a thumb over her shoulder (for reassurance she supposed) and said, It’s only Feon, but herm looks like a badly made tub of wallpaper paste, and he’s headed our way.

Is herm still asking you for advice?

I’ve gotten into the habit of dropping by for a short visit every RainbowSleeping morning. He paused. Herm wasn’t worried at court this morning. He paused again. It’s not me herm has an eye on, it’s you.

May I cut in? Feon asked from behind her, tone shaky.

Which one of us do you want? Lyzan returned lightly.

Feon closed herm’s eyes briefly. Both. Something horrible has happened.

Just now?

I need Miss Kitty’s help—or my friend does.

She and Lyzan broke apart and pulled Feon into their dance.

Feon was shaking and herm didn’t speak further at first, obviously collecting hermself. Herm finally blurted out, It’s Daquery. The guards arrested him for Book Abbatt’s murder.

Book Abbatt is dead? Sazzy echoed. She had known the book store owner since childhood...even if she hadn’t visited him and his book store much lately.

Book Abbatt’s death was the headline in the Crier’s afternoon edition, Prince Lyzan answered.

Uncle Dove stopped delivering the Crier to us; we have to find one on the street if we want one, she answered, then added, speaking of the editor of the Cousin Rag who had his business in Miss Kitty’s Private Spy Agency’s back room, I haven’t seen Tristan all day. She turned her attention to Feon. What do you need us to do?

Feon choked back tears. I don’t know. Prove he didn’t do it.

You don’t sound sure, Lyzan said.

Feon ducked herm’s head against the Prince’s shoulder. I don’t know. It isn’t something he would do. But they c-caught him with b-blood on his c-clothes. Daquery doesn’t remember. It isn’t something he would do. I don’t know. But the guards won’t even try to prove he didn’t do it. Someone has to do something to help him.

She and the Prince led Feon from the dance floor to a refreshment table partly hidden behind a potted lady tree. The Prince waved a wine server over, took the server’s last three chalices, and insisted Feon partake.

Sazzy checked for Dusty and mind spoke him over through their communication earrings. He brought a plate of nibbling food and his own chalice of dark wine, paused at the edge of the table, laid his hand briefly on Feon’s shoulder, then sat and glanced questioningly between them.

Is it the city or Royal guards who have your friend? Lyzan asked.

Some height grotesque of a detective called Gillfeather.

Ummm, Sazzy said, exchanging a look with Dusty. They had encountered Detective Gillfeather several times, and Paff, their city guard friend, worked under him. So, likely Paff was involved in the investigation. Gillfeather wasn’t charming, but Paff insisted the detective was thorough, careful, and fairly honest.

Paff usually refused to discuss current cases.

Will we be able to look at the scene of the crime? Dusty asked.

Feon stared at Dusty a moment looking ready to cry again. The guards had the store roped off last I knew. I couldn’t get Daquery’s things, they wouldn’t let me in. Hove was angry.

Who is Hove?

Abbatt’s son, his oldest son. He’s an accountant. For the river boats. None of them—Book’s children—are interested in the bookstore, only Daquery. Abbatt called him his favorite foster son. Daquery loved him like a father. None of it makes sense.

A page came over, bowed to the Prince and said, The Queen requests that you please stop making a scene and mingle.

Sazzy eyed the page. But it wouldn’t be his fault.

The Prince stood and offered Feon a hand up...and led them upstairs to his suite. At the door to that, he asked Feon, Would you rather go to your suite?

No.

Sazzy cocked her head. Why had Feon sounded so odd just saying a simple no? She didn’t ask, and Lyzan installed them in his sitting room and pulled out a bottle of Savor Silver wine.

A few sips in, Feon said, I never do anything right, and buried herm’s face under his arms and against the Prince’s couch arm.

You do a good job at the museum and at being Head of the Family, she and the Prince disagreed.

I don’t do a good job. Herm paused. I can’t do a good job because I don’t have the powers that belong to the Head of a Family—the magics they inherit.

I think you do an amazing job anyway, the Prince insisted.

How long have you known Daquery? Dusty asked.

Feon surfaced and bristled.

You brought him to the mid season dance, the Prince prompted.

I met him right after he started working for Abbatt. We dated some, then he started coming by the museum in the evenings and on his days off. Maybe two years. Feon hid herm’s face in herm’s hands. He didn’t do it. There’s no way he would have hurt Abbatt, he loved him like a son. Abbatt was really special to him. Since he never had a real father growing up.

What happened to his real father? Dusty asked.

He’s an orphan. He doesn’t know. The matron at the orphanage said he was just left on the doorstep with nothing.

Flowers of Joy, Sazzy put in, recognizing that answer.

Feon looked up. Yes. How did you know?

We just broke that operation wide open, she answered. How don’t you know?

Feon flushed dark, ducked herm’s head and fingered the hematite star-shaped pendant edged in silver that herm wore. I’ll have to choose Daquery, herm whispered. He needs me more. Herm sprang up and rushed out of the Prince’s suite.

After a few moments of none of them speaking, Lyzan called a page to escort her and Dusty back to the ballroom, where Her Majesty speared them with an irritated look as if Feon’s upset was all their fault. Her Uncle Ian asked her to dance.

Mid dance, he said, I just want you to know that as long as Shiveree and I rule, you will remain an elitedaughter, no matter what your sister thinks. And I, for one, am proud of you for standing up for yourself and doing what you feel is right. His eyes lit with momentary laughter. No matter how much Shivy complains that you make her life more difficult by bringing people long overdo a comeuppance to her reluctant and sometimes odd justice.

Dusty and I generally find her justice fitting, anyway. She paused. We appreciate it. That we know she will do something appropriate. Even when she doesn’t want to. She paused again. Thank you, that means a lot to me.

Herm has it difficult with that Acting Head of the Lyy Family position Shivy put herm in. Feon is certainly doing better in that position than I thought herm would. I hope you’ll be able to absolve herm’s beloved of his murder charge. It seems inconceivable to me, too, that Daquery would even think of such a thing, never mind do it.

Dusty and I will certainly try.

The music ended and her uncle brought her to Dusty—who looked ready to leave.

When Uncle Ian left them, she asked.

I still don’t have the stamina I used to, Dusty answered. The healer in the market says it will take up to a half year or more and that I ought to figure out what rest is and take some, so it won’t take longer. I guess I shouldn’t have helped Cady with the Flowers of Joy orphans, but Healer Hel also said writing was not resting, either. To me, it is.

They walked out into a chill breeze and talked weather on their way to Dancing Market and a chair runner that would take them home.

The only chair runner left was an older man with sparse gray hair and over-sized spectacles. He said when they paused, As long as you’re not in an all-fired hurry, I can get you wherever you need to go.

Whippet West, Easylyn Street, Dusty said.

The man frowned. Not Easylyn. How far on Whippet West?

Five, Sazzy said. It’s safe enough. The three biddies on the corner keep everyone in line.

The chair runner hrumped, but allowed them into his chair and strained a bit getting going. Once he was going, contrary to what he had said, he walked fairly briskly.

So, Dusty said. What do you think? Feon seems quite a bit less ditzy than when I first met herm, but I’m not sure I trust herm’s evaluation of his love.

I met Daquery at the King’s Race Fair. He seemed mellow and good-natured. Uncle Ian said he couldn’t imagine Daquery killing anyone either.

At least I know your uncle has a solid head on his shoulders.

I think Feon must be strong just to have lasted in the middle of the Lyy Family and the Queen’s appointment. Herm seems to be running the museum well.

Or herm hired the right people is what Thane says—though he likes Feon well enough.

Thane, Dusty’s old partner, now their part-time creature Seeker, also worked for Feon. At least Thane didn’t seem interested in taking over her position as Dusty’s partner. It’s hard to believe Book Abbatt is dead. She should send a note of sympathy to Delicia. Even though her former friend wouldn’t want to hear from her, she knew Delicia had adored her uncle.

The chair runner stopped in front of Five Whippet West, Dusty paid, and the man hurried back up the street.

Are you coming in for a wind-down cup of shalaka? Sazzy asked.

I want to make notes on what Feon said while it’s still fresh, Dusty answered. Shalaka sounds good.

Chapter 2

Saffie: Just Want To Leave Again

Saffie threw himself onto the bed in his old room with a disgruntled sound. His folks seemed stranger than ever. Dinner had been an ordeal. All he had been trying to do was find out how the people he cared about in the family had fared during his absence.

About all he had found out was that his sister was at a race meet...something his folks had blamed him for. How? He hadn’t even been here.

When he had asked where Shalin was, his mother and father had pretended they hadn’t heard him.

At least his folks hadn’t expected him to go to the King’s Ball with them—not the least that he had no suitable clothes.

On his way from the wharf to the family whimsy, he had bumped into his cousin Ricklin, who he used to be close to. Ricklin had acted glad to see him, but oddly leery of him. Why? But at least Ricklin had let fall some of the Family gossip. Like that Gran Molly was living in the county now. He could barely imagine that. She had always loved to be in the midst of things, especially she had enjoyed Social Season. What was going on? And how could he find out? Asking at the Emporium likely wouldn’t work, since he had never really trusted how they parceled out information, never mind that they had the ’don’t tell anyone anything for free’ attitude.

His folks expected him to go by the Emporium tomorrow and, he could tell, hoped he would get the job that Shalin had been slated to have (with no reason stated as to why Shalin didn’t have that position)...thus renewing their prestige in the Family. As if he had the same talent or the same caliber of talent as his younger brother. But he would go by just in case he could find out what was really going on from them—if not outright, than inadvertently.

Never mind, why in the Thunderlands cousin Vivalda had ringfasted Wesran Yght of all people. He certainly couldn’t imagine Wesran had improved that much since they had come out together.

Saffie rolled to his feet and checked his closet. Yes, his valet had unpacked his clothes and hung some of them neatly up.

Saffie went to find the valet and get the rest of his clothes back. They weren’t the latest fashion, but several of the outfits were favorites.

His valet had retired for the night, but Saffie managed to rescue his clothes from the rag bin. He carried them back upstairs and hung them in his wardrobe...rather than just pack everything back up and leave the country on any boat headed away.

Chapter 3

All The News Whether You Want It Or Not

SkittersDelightday

When Thane came to breakfast at Miss Kitty’s the next morning, on his way from his security job at Feon’s museum to home, Dusty asked, What do you think of Feon Lyy?

I heard about his love being taken in for murder, Thane answered between his obligatory attention to their three cats. If you could get herm to come here, you could get the cats’ take on herm. Thane gave their slate on gray cat, Stripes, a last scratch, then pointed to the dishes Dusty had set at the far end of the table for the three. Miss Kitty and Stripes went. Sinister Magic, their black and white cat, stayed for a few more rubs.

Feon uses his little magics to keep the museum running smoothly, Thane continued. I think that’s why herm flits around so much: trying to cover everything with herm’s little magics that herm can. It’s a thankless job; there is always something else. Besides, then people start to expect you to always be there with a magic bandage.

Sinister left Thane for his food dish and Thane turned his attention to his scrambled eggs and toast. Are we taking on the case? I mean, the way you two feel about the Lyys.

Feon has never been on that pile, Dusty said.

Well, if one of them has a cat, dog, or pet pig you want me to talk to, let me know.

That’s an idea, she said. Feon wouldn’t, living in the palace, but Daquery might.

The Queen has a cat, Dusty said, you might talk to it.

Thane made a face. I’m no one to talk to the Queen’s cat.

Your family is Select, you are just as welcome at the Queen’s balls as we are.

That bad? Thane asked with a teasing laugh.

Be nice or I’ll buy you a whole box of red socks for Winter Deep.

No you won’t. If I got used to wearing red socks, you’d never have any stockings. Thane pushed his empty plate away, stood, and headed out humming under his breath.

A moment late, a horde of little feet clattered up the west stairs, going to Miss Hillmarker’s School of Tasteful Dance. Dusty sat tilting his kasha cup one way then the other.

Sazzy waited until the racket stopped before speaking. I wonder if Paff didn’t come to breakfast because he knew we’d want to talk to him about Daquery Kline, while he wouldn’t want to spill any guard station secrets.

It would be his case, if its Gillfeather’s. I’ll tackle Gillfeather. You—

Tristan, the owner of the Cousin Rag, came in and slumped into the seat closest to the door. Now I know why people call the paper a rag—it’s really a description of the editor.

Tough night? Dusty asked, then added, Have you eaten lately?

I’ve been living on kasha bold and sweet buns since Maclen came back with the news that Book Abbatt had been brutally murdered yesterday morning.

How much do you know? Dusty asked as he made Tristan up a plate with the remaining scrambled eggs.

The rag is on your desk.

Sazzy got the news scroll from her desk and returned.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

BELOVED BOOK STORE OWNER

FOUND BRUTALLY MURDERED

Maxmillion Abbatt Syiin, affectionately known as Book Abbatt, was found dead in the back room of his shop yesterday late in the morning by a frequent customer.

I came in and no one met me, that customer, Marlow Fender, said, when the Rag approached him at his office later in the day, but that isn’t unusual. When Book gets looking at his new finds, he can stay in the back room forever. I was surprised his assistant didn’t come out. When I called and no one answered, I went back. All the wizardglobes were on so it wasn’t hard to see. I knew it was something dire when I saw the foot sticking out from under the pile of books. It looked as if Book had accidentally pulled the whole shelf down on him. But none of the shelves were empty. Since no one else appeared to be there, I went for the city guards.

The guards were ready to write it off as a tragic accident until the body was uncovered...along with the murder weapon: one of a set of heavy brass map weights.

City guards are looking for Elite Abbatt’s assistant, who appears not to have come in to work that morning.

The Rag will let you know further as the news breaks.’

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Our next edition, Tristan said, the one I’m about to have run to the streets, has the killer in it. I couldn’t get in to talk to him, though; he had a break down so bad the guards sent for a mind healer for him. The guards wouldn’t release his name, but I can’t imagine it isn’t Abbatt’s assistant. Who must have come in after all.

Sazzy exchanged a look with Dusty. He shook his head slightly, meaning: let Tristan find out on his own.

Tristan scarfed up the last of his eggs and stood. Thanks. Back to the papergrinder.

As soon as Tristan’s footsteps down the back hall, Dusty said, As I was saying: I’ll tackle Gillfeather, and we can both wrestle Paff down tonight if he’s brave enough to come to dinner. I think both of us should go talk to Daquery Kline, assuming the guards ever let anyone in. Do you mind taking the customer?

First I want to write Delicia a sympathy note—even if she probably will tear it up and throw it in the fire without reading it.

Fresh Cousin Rag on your desk, Brollie sang out, then his footsteps sounded hurrying outside.

It sounds as if Tris recruited Brollie, too, Dusty said, pushing to his feet. I hope we still get dinner. I think Edgy is having him help her cook more and more.

She was already ancient when we moved in and asked her to cook for us.

"I’m not going to retire her and make her feel useless."

Me either. She followed him to his office, scarfed up the latest Cousin Rag before he could, and handed him last night’s edition. Sazzy sat in his client chair and unrolled the scroll. Dusty leaned on the back of the chair and read over her shoulder.

This article reported more of the details regarding the state of the shop, said the guards had found an unexpected amount of evidence, and ended by saying the city guards had arrested their primary suspect, who they had locked in their jail pending trial by a magistrate.

Being a murder, though, the trial would come up in front of the Queen.

Speaking of the Queen... Determined footsteps advanced down their north hallway. A moment later, Her Majesty, wearing her disguise as a dance instructress for Miss Hillmarker’s School of Tasteful Dance, paused in Dusty’s doorway. She glanced between them commandingly, then said, I find Feon indispensable. Herm assumes herm’s little magics aren’t worth much, but they have been a big help to me. And to the Family that disparages herm. I hope Miss Kitty’s will be able to clear this up before I have to bring herm’s beloved to trial. The Queen stalked back down the hall and continued up the west stairs to the dance school.

Well, that answered where her Majesty stood on the situation.

Nothing like a little pressure, Dusty said, pushing upright and going to his desk. I hope Daquery is innocent or we’re going to have a disgruntled Queen unamused with us.

It won’t be the first time. She set the scroll aside. Do you want me to look up Daquery when I check the customer?

Of course.

According to the city records, Daquery had lived in the Flowers of Joy Orphanage six years before being adopted by the Kline family. Sazzy made a note to remind herself to ask Cady, their sometimes branch partner, if Daquery’s file had been one of the ones the spymaster’s men had recovered. The Queen had given Cady the job of matching any kidnapped orphans to the missing children lists and restoring those children to their natural parents if it appeared a positive move. Dusty had helped Cady Seek, but they hadn’t had a lot of success.

Daquery had been adopted into the Kline family at age ten. A year and a half later, Master Kline had died and Daquery had taken a job as a shop boy with the green grocer at the northern edge of the Race of Legend Community. In 1894, at the age of sixteen, he had started working at Abbatt’s Books.

She should have met him at the shop, then.

Sazzy stared at the cubicle’s wall a moment trying to remember. Yes, she had a vague memory of someone not Book Abbatt at the book store. Abbatt had always waited on her himself, though.

In 1895, Book Abbatt had recorded glowing praise, Daquery’s promotion to shop assistant, and his intent to pass the shop on to Daquery when he retired.

Would that make Book Abbatt’s natural children jealous enough to kill their father before he could pass the shop to someone outside of the family? She jotted that idea down.

What else did she need to look up? Abbatt’s Book Nook in the business directory maybe...even though she couldn’t imagine anything surprising there.

Maxmillion Syiin had started his shop at age twenty upon returning from his Grand Tour. The shop had become a success within a half year. During that time, he had become known as Book Abbatt. The shop had been the first in town to stock Miss Nellie’s, causing contention with the Lyy Family. According to the record of his tithings, the shop was still successful.

Abbatt had gone through seven assistants and four shop helpers before settling on Daquery.

Next, she looked up Book Abbatt’s family in the social register.

That told her that he had been born to Lady Glowing Syiin and Select Favor Lyy. The two had been handfasted at the time, but had broken the fasting at the end of the year and a day. A year after that, Book Abbatt had promisemated Abagail Westry.

Sazzy wrote Abbatt’s wife’s name down to look up later.

Lady Westry and Book Abbatt had three children. Their oldest, a daughter, Pomegranate, had been born a year after the promisemating almost to the day. The second child, a son, Hove, the one Feon had mentioned, had been born a year later. Eight years later, the couple had a third child, Kistrief, a herm, who would be about fourteen now. And who she could identify with, since she had been born eight years later than her youngest brother, as well.

Book Abbatt had a half-sister, Angelica...who was Delicia’s mother. His second sister lived in the country and had two children, a boy and a girl.

She had danced with the boy once or twice during last year’s social season.

Sazzy looked up Abbatt’s three children in the work records journal. Hove had a job as a day sailing accountant for the river boat that took tourists on rides up and down the river by day and lovers up and down the river by night. Pomegrante had never worked. Kistrief was listed as a student at the Syiin School of Impractical Magic and Mummery.

Sazzy sat up and stretched. Did she need to look up anything else? Maybe, but right now, she needed to stop and do something else because her mind felt like pudding.

On her way back to Five Whippet West, she sent her sympathy note to Delicia and stayed a moment to talk to Katarina who manned the Fleetfoot Runner’s desk today.

When Sazzy entered Miss Kitty’s Private Spy Agency, Dusty greeted her from the waiting room couch with, What did you get on the customer?

Customer? Oops! She had entirely forgotten to look up the customer. She answered with what she had looked up.

What about Marlow Fender? Dusty insisted, naming the customer pointedly.

I forgot. I got tired.

Sazz.

I’ll do him tomorrow. She paused and countered, Did you get to talk to Gillfeather?

I was told he’s too busy and that I could leave my name and Gillfeather would get back to me. The guard at the desk didn’t sound as if that would really happen. Nor do I expect it to.

We can always go get Paff at the station and bring him to dinner to grill, she suggested lightly.

I’ve been thinking we should talk to the store owners around Abbatt’s shop and, if we happen to be able to get inside the book store, all the better.

Do you want to go now?

We have the time, Dusty said, standing. Sazzy caught up her private spy kit and followed him outside.

As they started east on Whippet Street, she said, Drat! I forgot to go by Cady’s. I hope he comes to dinner. I want to ask him if he happens to have a folder from the Flowers of Joy that might match Daquery Kline’s information.

That’s a good idea. The more we can find out about him, the better. What I think we need to know most is whether Abbatt had any enemies.

I don’t remember him ever having any special enemies. He had lots of friends. He used to pal around most with Daffid Clover and Uncle Dove. He was good friends with Molly and Gran Glory.

Maybe I’ll try to catch Delicia and sound her out—even though I don’t expect much, as ditzy as she is.

She loved her uncle.

Not as a suspect, as someone who might know if he had any enemies.

They took Little Sidewinder Street, passed Wort Racher’s Apothecary Shop without stopping, and veered north onto Book Street. Mid the northern end of the street, magenta crime ribbons fluttered in the slight breeze and surrounded Abbatt’s shop. A large, official looking padlock secured the shop’s door. Trader Doffe, two doors up and across the street, had a sign out that read: ’Come in and buy something and, for a tin orphan, I’ll tell you what I saw.’

She and Dusty exchanged a look. She had solved a rash of break-ins for Trader Doffe...who had then tried to weasel out of paying them.

The sign says to me he doesn’t know anything, Dusty said.

Across the street from Abbatt’s, Ore’Hab’s Kitchen Goods had a closed door despite the late summer heat. The Stationery Shop south of Abbatt’s had a ’closed’ sign on the door. The shop just north sported a ’for rent’ sign.

Just before they reached Abbatt’s shop, a woman with a trundle cart clumped down from Fezzle Street calling out, Tea time! Tea time! Her cart had a tattered lace canopy and blue bows at the corners. As she passed Doffe’s,