Саманта Сильвер - Busy As A Beaver

“Ok, fine, complex was the wrong word. But it’s not a guarantee.”

“These sound like someone making excuses for failing to find the person who did this to us.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You know, seeing as I’m doing you a favor here, you could show just a little bit of gratitude.” I had no idea that beavers were so blunt.

“We do appreciate what you’re doing. We would just appreciate it more if your plan didn’t involve our lodge being attacked again at some point in the future.”

I thought about a solution for a minute. “Alright. Well, why don’t I put a protection spell on your lodge? That way, as long as your family stays in the lodge, nothing from the outside will be able to hurt you. It won’t protect the dam, but if he comes back he won’t be able to wreck your lodge, and he won’t be able to reach those of you who are inside. I can leave the spell on for as long as it takes, so if he comes back in a few days, you’ll be safe. Would that help?”

“You humans have that power?” the beaver asked, obviously impressed.

“Not all of us. Only those of us with magical powers, like me. The same magical powers that allow me to speak to you.”

“So with this spell, no matter what, so long as we are inside our lodge, we will be safe?”

“Yes,” I nodded. “I’m going to the city tomorrow, so I can buy some security equipment then. I will come back tomorrow night and set it up, and then if he comes by and attacks your place again, I will be able to find him.”

“Good,” the beaver said, nodding. “That is acceptable to us.” His formal tone combined with his slight lisp from the size of his front teeth was kind of funny, but pretty adorable at the same time.

“I’ll come by tomorrow, then,” I said. “Now, let me cast the spell.”

I thought for a second about the proper spell to use, thinking that maybe it would be slightly different for a beavers’ lodge than for a normal human house, then settled on the words.

“ Praesidioroa domum ,” I said, pointing my finger towards the lodge. “There. It’s protected.”

“Are you sure?” the beaver said, giving me a skeptical look. “I didn’t see anything change.”

“I am sure.” I nodded, making my way to the lodge. “Watch.”

I went to grab a piece of wood from the pile, but it wouldn’t budge, no matter how hard I pulled. It was like it had been embedded in concrete.

“Wow. That is impressive,” the beaver said as he waddled back towards the creek. “Maybe you do know what you’re doing after all.”

I hid a smile as I said goodbye to the beaver and struggled through the brush on my way back to the park. Who on earth would destroy a beautiful beavers’ dam and lodge like that? I knew they could be a little annoying sometimes, sure, but the beavers had just as much of a right to be there as we did.

Now I had two mysteries to solve. At least now the beavers would be safe, so long as they stayed in their lodge when the attacker came back. If it had been simple vandals, I wouldn’t have expected the attack to be repeated, but the fact that whoever had done this seemed to be in a rage made me think that maybe this wasn’t going to be a one-time thing.

I hoped I was wrong, but the way things were going, I had a feeling I wasn’t. At least the next time someone tried to attack the beavers, we would be prepared. I wasn’t going to let someone get away with hurting these animals and making them more at risk to predators.

Chapter 9

First thing the next morning, Sophie and I piled into my car and drove to Portland—I decided I was driving, since Sophie being behind the wheel always increased our risk of dying in a fiery crash hundreds of percentage points.

When I texted Jason if he wanted to come, he replied that he had a bunch of work to do on his article and was going to pass this time, but asked me if I’d send him along any pertinent information before his deadline later that afternoon.

“Please, tell him to do his own legwork,” Sophie said with a smile as she read out the text while I drove.

“Well, seeing as we didn’t even know Michael Carlton’s name before he gave it to us, I think we can give him a pass this time around,” I laughed.

“I was thinking last night about this trip. I think we need to investigate Michael Carlton’s murder separately from Gloria’s home invasion.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” Sophie said. “After all, think about it. We’re having so much trouble finding a link between the two of them, but really, right now, who cares? Let’s look for the person who did it, and from there we can find a motive. I think we need to really see the forest through the trees, and right now, we’re definitely focused on the trees.”

“Ok,” I said slowly, mulling over Sophie’s words. I had to admit, they did make sense in a way.

“I mean, we’re accepting that the person who killed Michael is probably the same person who broke into Gloria’s place. I don’t think that’s stretching it, especially since the cops obviously think the same way, otherwise we wouldn’t have seen Chief Gary at their crime scene yesterday.”

“I’m with you.”

“And we were both at Gloria’s place the other night. There’s, like, literally zero evidence there. If there was anything worth looking at, the cops would have taken it away already.”

“Yeah,” I agreed.

“So let’s look into Michael’s death, and only Michael’s, and once we find out who killed him, since hopefully there might be a bit more evidence there, we can link that person to Gloria’s house.”

“Alright, I’m in,” I said. “What do you think we should do first?”

“You’re going to love me,” Sophie replied with a grin. “I think we should check out the crime scene.”

“Oh, good, it’s not even nine in the morning and we’re already committing a felony.”

“Hey, at the speed you drive, by the time we get to Portland it’s going to be at least eleven.”

“It will be ten o’clock, tops, and we’re not going to be stopped by the cops for speeding or die in a ditch at the side of the road because we lost control of the car,” I replied. Charlotte’s and my parents had died in a car crash when we were quite young, and while the crash hadn’t been their fault, I had always been a rather defensive driver.

But then, compared to Sophie, Lewis Hamilton was a defensive driver.

Sure enough, at five minutes to ten, we found ourselves a few blocks away from Michael Carlton’s home—and in one piece, I might add.

“Alright,” I said. “Invisibility spell?”

Sophie nodded. “Absolutely.”

I cast the spell on her first, and then on me. The car looked completely empty now.

“Make sure there’s no one coming before you get out,” I told Sophie. “I don’t want my car impounded for being haunted.”

Sophie laughed, the sound coming from the passenger seat despite me not being able to see her body. Even though we had used this particular spell quite a few times in recent memory, it was still kind of strange to hear her without seeing her, despite knowing she was less than a foot away from me.

I had a look around, and as far as I could tell there was no one nearby—the advantage of being in a residential neighborhood in the middle of a weekday was the lack of snooping neighbors—so I slipped out of the car and closed the door quickly behind me.

“Ready?” Sophie’s voice asked a second later, and I nodded before realizing she couldn’t see me.

“Yup. Let’s go.”

We approached the house quietly, holding hands so as to know where the other person was at all times.

“I don’t see any cops,” Sophie whispered. “You?”