Funnel Cakes and Double Takes

Cyd waited under the awning out front for her brother, holding two mango smoothies, one with a few missing sips.

“Oh my God I love our twin thing.” Mathias said happy to take one for himself. “Dis … awesome.”

“Twintuition,” Cyd said with a smirk. “What’d you find out?”

“Nothing yet. One was sobbing and the other was doing an impression of a clam. Soft touch. Phone number. They will so call us when their shift is done.” Mathis said with confidence.

“I did a little better, Cyd said, rubbing her temples to ward off a brain freeze. “Talked to Gabe, he made the smoothies, and was with the girls last night when Ethan was killed. Said Ethan was cockblocking him hard.”

“You notice that something about the Ethan and bing a dick seem to go hand in hand.* Mathias noted offhandedly. “Okay so … Gabe. Has a thing for one of them.” He registered jamming a thumb back to the souvenir shop. “And Ethan for reasons yet revealed prevented Gabe from getting his smoothie on.” He nodded. “Crime scene?” Mathias suggested.

“He seemed to think Ethan had a thing for Ines, he took her to the Fair, even though it’s full of tourists. Said they smoked a bunch of weed after and Ethan was acting sketchy, hearing things before he ran off.” Cyd continued.

“And we're like … 50/50 that it wasn't the weed?” Mathias paused. “Did he buy anything? Other than sketchy skunk weed?”

“I bought some off Gabe, says it’s the same they smoked last night,” Cyd said, holding up the bag. “No one else had a reaction to it. Says they drank a few beers, smoked a bit, but he was acting tetchy before then.”

“Only one way to be sure.” Mathias said innocently.

“It won’t go to waste,” Cyd promised. “I wasn’t able to get my hands on anything that belonged to the kid though. Nothing we can cast on anyway.”

“It's only day one.” Mathias said slipping his drink “Well find something, is swear though if this ends up being a drug induced crime of passion … fire. Bela. Face.”

“That would be one extreme case of the munchies,” Cyd said dryly. “What’s next on the list?”

“We have a few supposed witnesses. Check out the crime scene, so we still have that contact in the local PD? Pull the report?” Mathias said, making check marks in the air with a finger.

“Shouldn’t be too hard,” Cyd answered. “Everything’s digital now, so we don’t even need a physical report. What do we have by way of witnesses?”

“You every time you say that I die a little inside.” Mathias said dryly, taking out the very not digital mini notepad. Because apparently Mathias still was living in the stone age. Forcibly. ”

“Fair?” Cyd asked.

“Fair.” Mathias decided with a lopsided smile.

“You just want funnel cake,” Cyd accused.

“Oh good, and here I thought I was being subtle.“ Mathias said with a shameless grin.

“Nothing about you is every subtle,” Cyd accused, heading towards the music.

Mathias gives an exaggerated gasp clutching invisible pearls as they walked side by side. “That is only mostly true.” He said in a tone reminiscent of a scandalized Victorian widow.

With funnel cakes in hand, they strolled through the fair, stopping at a few booths, trying their luck at a few skill games, listening to a few Indie bands on stages that were little more than flatbed trailers with giant speakers. “Anything?” She asked, as Mahias pulled out his Nokia phone.

“Naw. Give it time, you can't rush these things.” Mathias said, stuffing the phone back. “It's like making coffee. Takes a hot minute.” He said, eyes moving over all the booths.

“Look at you,” she teased, “learning patience”

Mathias scoff. “Please … the longer it takes for them to call the more we can enjoy the fair.” He snickered.

Cyd stopped to look at a crochet halter top, but the price tag made her quickly change her mind, turning instead towards the Tee shirts, which had her doing a double take. She nudged her brother’s shoulder. “Do… they look…” she started to say, letting the sentence hang.

Mathis was distracted and was nudged back to the present. “Hmm?” He hummed as he turned to look at what Cyd was staring at. Mathias batarked and tilted his head and stepped closer. “Well … shit.” He said staring at the iconography splattered on the shirt.

“Interested?” A college-aged woman decked out in Bohemian garb asked. She sat by a small table, sketching designs into a hardback book. “Shirts are twenty each, or three for fifty. Cash only.”

“It's … an … interesting design.” Mathias said slowly trying to come to turmes twitch the array of very magical symbols casually painted on a carnival shirt!? “Who uh … is the artist local?” He asked, trying to tear his eyes away from the magical catnip of a shirt.

“You’re looking at her,” the young woman said, shifting her gaze to the shirts.

“You.” Mathias said, pointing to shirt. “Did this. On purpose?”

“It’s wiccan," the woman replied smugly. “Luck, prosperity, let me know what you’re looking for and I’ll find you something suitable, or rather, help something suitable find you.”

Mathis tried not to make a strangled sound. “Is it now, that's … very interesting. Did you find it in a book or … ancient text …”

“The thing about Wiccanism,” she said, her voice dripping with condescension, “It’s not like your conventional religion with books or scrolls. It’s all around us. Something that just…” she paused for dramatic effect. “Is.”

Mathias gave his sister a look like ‘is this bitch seriously’ because Mathias. With a passion. Hated idiots. And the problem was so many people were idiots. “First of … I'm agnostic and don't prescribe to insanity that religion. Second Wiccanism is a natural-based pagan religion that was invented in the United Kingdom in the 1940s. That …” Mathias pointed to the shirt. “... Is actually an impressively well done Assyrian religious configuration in Akkadian from the 8th century.”

Cyd had to look away and hide laughter with a cough, as she explored the other wares in the booth.

The woman scrunched her lips together, and narrowed her eyes before putting on a sickly sweet smile. “It is what the beholder wishes to see. Twenty each, or three for fifty,” she asserted.

“This isn't a beholder issue, it's an academic one.” Mathias said, slamming down a twenty.

“Academia is a construct,” she scoffed. “I believe in the more ethereal.”

Ethereal or not, she took his twenty fast enough, folding it into a lockbox beneath the table. “Enjoy your purchase, she said, returning to her sketchbook. “All sales are final. And a gift," she offered, holding up a satin sleep mask, ”with every purchase."

“Aetherea ne verum quidem!(Ethereal is not a thing!)” Mathis accused take his shirt and walking out.

She handed Cyd the paisley patterned eye mask. "Filled with lavender and buckwheat hulls, very soothing," she encouraged.

"Thanks," Cyd said with a small smile and nod, shoving the eye mask into her purse before chasing after her brother.