Author's note: Chapter is a bit later than usual, real life calling and all that, but here it is. Have fun!

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Neighbors are a bit like a mother-in-law. They come with the territory, whether you like it or not, can potentially make your life hell, and always know far too much than you’re comfortable with. Go deliver the cookies sweetie, please.

Margaret Ortiz teaching her youngest daughter

We continued with small talk while we waited for the private eye to appear. Somehow the cupcakes on the plate were vanishing at an alarming rate between the policeman and I. I knew I’d get rid of them quite quickly as soon as the training from hell would restart, but if the inspector scarfed them down like that, he’d end up with quite a bit of flab soon.

I rose as the doorbell rang, motioning for mom to stay seated.

What I found at the door really wasn’t what I expected. When one thinks private investigator, one usually thinks retired cops, or one of those dashing young men of the movies, or any other picture painted by popular dramas or books…

One certainly doesn’t think harmless looking tiny doll of a woman.

She couldn’t have been taller than 1m55, with golden locks cut in a deliberately messy short style and sparkling blue eyes. She had pretty, girl-next-door even features with a small rosebud of a mouth that was currently stretched into a wide grin.

“Oh, hello! You must be Abigail, right? Oh my god, Louis told me you had unusual eyes, but he didn’t tell me how beautiful they were! Is Louis still here? I really need to scold him, you know, his map wasnt useful at all, and it looks like a five years old drew it. By the way, I’m Emilie Rosalto, freelance private investigator…and I’ll stop babbling for now, sorry, my words tend to bypass my mouth when I’m nervous.”

Slightly bemused, I motioned for her to follow me, leading her to the living room and the cupcake graveyard.

“Emilie! What took you so long?”

“Not my fault if the map you drew me was bad Louis.”

“I swear, you’re directionally challenged. You should really get a GPS app for your phone. It would cut on your wandering time.

So as everyone surmised, this is Emilie Rosalto, an ex-colleague of mine who quit the police due to personal circumstances. Emilie, those two are the mother and daughter I told you about, Abigail and Margaret Ortiz. There’s a second daughter too, Katarina, who should be at school right now.

Don’t get fooled by Emilie’s harmless little girl routine, she’s a better marksman than me, though her real abilities lie in following any kind of paper, money, or computer trail. If your attackers left any clue of that nature, she’ll find them.”

He rose, dusting a few crumbs off his shirt.

“I’ll let you discuss together. Keep me appraise if there’s anything falling under my jurisdiction. I would do more if I could, but with no proof and no witnesses, I’m powerless.”

“Thanks for all your help inspector, we’re really grateful for your interventions.”

I gave him some of the leftover cupcakes in a Tupperware as he left, to his embarrassment. It might be silly, but it’s a small thing compared to the help he provided.

Mom was already discussing our case with the P.I. when I came back, so I retrieved more coffee on the way while listening. Basically, she would start by retracing Richard Martin steps, to see where he came from. If this didn’t work, she’d focus on my grandparents’ movements since they were the primary suspects at the moment.

“You know, in today’s society it is really hard, not to say nearly impossible, to move around invisibly. There are cameras everywhere, paper trails with the airport securities, money trails with the banks, although to find those one needs either very good connections, or some less conventional skillsets. Lucky for you I have that skillset, though it will be expensive if you want me to go that way.”

“Please, use all means at your disposal. We’ll manage the costs. If needed, Abby’s father will pitch in too.”

She scribbled something, pushing the note on the coffee table.

“This is my retainer fee. I will inform you when it comes close to being used up. I will be working all week, sometimes at night if a surveillance is needed, and I will call you at least once every two days to keep you informed, more often if something unexpected pops up. Do you agree with those conditions?”

“It sounds reasonable enough. I suppose you have a contract I need to sign to finalize our agreement?”

I nodded to Mrs. Rosalto, leaving them to the paperwork. There was still a lot of stuff I wanted to do today, starting with some baking.

I was done with my inventory of the ingredients at hand when mom came behind me, suddenly hugging me.

“She’s gone?”

“Yes, she wanted to start as soon as possible, before the trail became too cold. I’ll tell the men they can come back now.”

Those would be vanilla and fudge muffins. Baked goods are always a good tool to appease the ire of ruffled neighbors. I was mixing the fudge chips in the dough to the beat of a popular song when the men entered the kitchen.

“Ooh, is this an apology for sending us away?”

I slapped my father’s hand away from the dough.

“As if! Half will go to the neighbors; the other half is to replace the cupcakes.”

“You’re a cruel woman, daughter mine.”

I snorted, my nose up in the air.

“You should watch your weight; all those cakes you steal are starting to show.”

A look of sheer horror crossed his features. He pinched his waist.

“I am not getting fat! See, I’m as awesome as ever!”

I just watched him pityingly while putting the muffins in the oven with Storm’s silent help. His eyes were not quite sparkling at my father’s misery, but he did seem secretly amused. He shouldn’t. Kate had unilaterally decided to update him on modern technology, high-handedly glossing over all his protests. He’d be stuck a good chunk of the morning on her computer to complete the “homework” she had left him.

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As far as I could tell, she had finagled a deal where she exchanged the sign language lessons he wanted with the tech lessons he loathed. Good thing for him he was a fast learner, soaking everything like a sponge.

Half an hour later, I put down the book I had been reading. I had decided to take a good long look at old myths since there were already quite a few of those congregating in the house. I wasn’t taking all I read as god given truth, but there was probably more than a grain of it in the truly old legends, not the fluffy ones handed down to kids.

I went back to the kitchen, dividing the warm muffins in three boxes. Taking the two smaller ones, I first headed to the house left of ours, where Mrs. Dross resided.

I rather liked the old lady. She was really sharp and still in good physical condition despite her 76 years of age, mostly thanks to her time at the swimming pool.

She should change her hair stylist though, he always left the whitening shampoo too long, turning her hair a bluish color.

I knocked on the door, taking a deep breath.

“Abby! You haven’t come in forever. Come in, come in, how is your mom? Still not ready to come to the aqua gym club with me?”

She guided me inside her home, though it wasn’t really necessary since all the houses of the street were built more or less the same way. Only the way people decorated their homes or garden changed. City council had wanted to plan the neighborhood as an ensemble for a more harmonious feeling. I call that boring though.

She was familiar with my disability, so she always gave me time to properly write my answers, which was a nice change of pace compared to most people.

“Mom is well, but too busy at the pub lately to go with you. Besides we have guests at home at the moment.”

“Oh yes I’ve seen. Please, get guests more often if they’re as pleasing to the eyes as those two. So, which one are you going out with?”

I coughed, nearly choking on my tea. Her robin blue eyes sparkled as she thumped my back.

“The blond one, Uriel, is family. Storm, the black haired one, is a friend.”

“Only a friend hm? What are you doing girl? Snatch him before someone else does! Oh, and before I forget, tell your mom I’ll go see her at the pub this afternoon. I need a good gossip session.”

I gave her the muffins, apologizing for any disturbance we might have caused. The sound barrier had been erected in haste, so some noise might have gone through.

“I’m sorry if we have been noisy lately. You know how it is with more people in the house, one tends to forget to be careful.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that Abby. Instead, why don’t you ask those faes of yours to stop pilfering my pantry. I’ll give them cookies instead; it should suit their tastes better if I remember how the stories go.”

My horrified and shocked face might have been a sight to behold, judging by her guffaw. Those damn pixies, couldn’t have they been a bit more careful? I’d wring their scrawny necks when I’d get back home.

“Don’t worry girl, your secret is safe with me. I don’t want to end in the loony bin.

Besides, why should I endanger the most interesting thing to happen in a long while when I’m so bored with my daughters too busy to come see me?

Just make sure to tell me all the juicy details, all right?”

Still in a daze, I directed my steps to the other neighbor’s door. Since nobody was home, I left the box on the doorstep with an apology note.

I’d need to discuss what just happened with the family. I didn’t think Mrs. Dross would betray us, but my record in judging people’s temperaments was not exactly stellar.

Although one of things she said was quite right. Who would believe pixies that could turn in multicolored mice had been invading her home for the sole purpose of raiding her pantry? She’d be sent to a psychiatrist faster than one can say “cheese!”.

I quietly entered home, going for the garden, when I heard Uriel’s pleading voice.

“Maggs, how long do you plan on making me pay for leaving you?”

I stopped in my tracks, barely breathing.

“You…you…! Do you have any idea, any idea at all, of how hard it was to forget you? To raise our daughter alone? I even named her for you! And now that I’ve picked up the pieces of my broken life you’re asking me to risk everything I gained for you again! How can you?

Why can’t I hate you for what you made me go through?

Why won’t you let me hate you…?”

The only other time I had ever heard my mother’s voice breaking that way had been after the death of Dale, when she thought I was asleep. I had been heartbroken then, and I still was now, years later.

 “So, what should I do, for you to look at me again?”

“I don’t know. I just don’t know. All this damn situation is just such a gigantic mess! I hate what is happening, I’m scared for my girls, and I’m so tired of always fighting to keep afloat…I know I’m the one who sent Abigail to fetch you, but god, it’s too damn hard…”

“I’ve been an ass, and a moron who let a true treasure slip through his fingers.

I will wait for you, for as long as you need. I’ll help you, and support you, for as long as you’ll let me.

In the end, I have nothing but time. Just...look at me properly...please, for old times' sake if nothing else.”

Quietly, very quietly as to not disturb them I sneaked back to the stairs, grabbing my book on the way.

I realized that somehow along the way, any objection I might have had about this had vanished, eaten away by my father’s staunch support of our family.