“That’s what I think, too.”
The dog chuckled. “Of course. I know before you know what you’re thinking.”
“Mostly true.” I laughed, too, and then continued. “It’s possible he really did want to protect Cassie.”
“Doubtful,” Bixby said. “He was willing to marry her off in a business deal with Blaine’s uncle. How much could he care about her welfare?”
I sighed. “Families are complicated. I sensed he believed Blaine would take care of Cassie. But it didn’t stop him from taking care of himself, too.”
“Human nature, I suppose,” Sinda said. “Nothing is ever black and white, even in the non-magical world. Here, it’s most definitely colorful, as Ren was saying.”
Minerva had vanished by the time we reached City Hall. She didn’t go in by the front door last time, either. City Hall must have a cat door.
As we entered the square, the fountain switched off suddenly.
“Oooh, someone still has an admirer,” Bixby said. “Your hair is safe with him, Janelle.”
Ren laughed. “The ghost clown? How sweet. Drew had better watch his step.”
“Clowns creep me out,” I admitted. “At least the living variety. But this fellow was extremely helpful and he obviously agrees with my mother that presentation is more than half of every battle.”
“Hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you’ve looked better, Janelle,” Bixby said.
I patted my hair. “Fainting probably didn’t help. And you love being the bearer of bad news.”
“All news,” he said. “Canine reporter, at your service.”
I picked him up before we walked into the foyer and over to the information desk. Mrs. Willard, my nemesis behind the plexiglass shield, looked up and frowned. We’d had a couple of tense encounters when I didn’t take no for an answer.
“Good morning, Mrs. Willard,” I said. “Mayor Longmuir is expecting us.”
She made a show of clicking on her computer. “Not until two. We’ll see you then.”
The ghost clown had appeared on the other side of the turnstile, beckoning eagerly. I started to wave and stopped. There was no one else in the immediate vicinity and it would only confirm my wild card status for Mrs. Willard.
“I believe there’s been a change of plans. Could you check in with her?”
“Her Worship is a stickler about her schedule. If she wanted it changed, I’d know.” She smirked. “Be on your way, ladies and dogs.”
“Rude,” Bixby said. “As if I’m a mere dog. The poodle, yes, but I’m an important citizen of this town.”
A feline citizen had joined Mrs. Willard in the reception area. She jumped up on the desk and walked across the keyboard, stopping long enough to brush the woman with her extravagant tail. The receptionist’s eyes glazed slightly and then she sneezed. “Hello, Minerva. You don’t usually visit.”
I rapped gently on the shield to get her attention. “Could you check your schedule again? I’m quite sure the mayor’s expecting us.”
“Of course, yes.” She didn’t even look at her screen before buzzing us in. “Enjoy your visit.”
“What an efficient familiar,” I teased Bixby as we walked through the turnstile. “An elegant brush of Minerva’s tail bends the surliest person to her will.”
He bristled under my fingertips. “An elegant familiar for an elegant official, perhaps. If you’d like to replace me, there’s a clown at your service. See how well you get around town after bringing him over.”
The clown transformed from nearly transparent to full harlequin color as we approached. Was he using my energy to do it? If so, I didn’t feel a drain. I was happy to make him happy, at least for a little while, but even if I could help him cross back, I wouldn’t. Too hard to explain a clown wingman.
“I’ll stick with you, sir,” I told the dog, as Minerva led us up the carpeted stairs to the mayor’s suite.
Bixby grunted indignantly. “You waited a beat too long, Miss Brighton. You were picturing that clown riding shotgun in Elsa and I take it as an insult.”
Ren couldn’t help laughing. “Can you take it as an insult later, Bixby? I sure appreciate you and being here makes me nervous. It doesn’t help that I have a purloined book in my bag.”
“Do you think we’re in trouble over what happened with Angus?” Sinda asked.
I sighed. “Probably. But I’ve managed to talk Ruthann down before.”
“Was that before or after you hiccupped her familiar into oblivion?” Bixby asked. “I forget.”
The cat turned and opened her mouth in a silent hiss that made Bixby recoil in my arms.
“Let’s dump that entire subject into the lexicon of forbidden words while we’re here,” I suggested. “Minerva is our host.”
“And a mere cat, whereas I’m a pedigreed dachshund. Bred to hunt badgers.”
The glass doors opened seemingly of their own accord when we reached them. There was no one behind the reception desk. Maybe security did a retinal scan on the cat.
“Hello?” I called. “Mayor Longmuir?”
A somewhat mousy woman of indeterminate age appeared in the doorway of the mayoral suite. Ruthann’s fine brown brows rose over hazel eyes that looked either green or brown depending on the moment. “Janelle, what are you doing here? I called all of you to postpone your class.”
“I didn’t get the message.” We all pulled out our phones to double check. “Nope. And Minerva came to collect us.”
