Page 28 of Pointy Ears and Purple Glitter (Quirk of Fate #5)

Tynan sat in the passenger seat of Malik’s truck, staring at his phone as it buzzed with a notification.

He’d been preoccupied with the confrontation at the workshop, running the events through his mind over and over.

Garrison’s men had known exactly where to strike, what would hurt them most. The thought of Ian’s broken arm made his stomach churn with guilt.

“It’s Ian,” he said, reading the message. “He says Hayley Cooper just sent him a direct message.”

Malik’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. “What? While he’s still at the hospital?”

“He forwarded it to me.” Tynan held up the phone so Malik could glimpse it at a stoplight. “She says she saw his profile comment on her Instagram post and wants to talk to him privately.”

“That’s unexpected,” Malik said carefully. “Could be a trap.”

“Or it could be our first real lead.” Tynan studied the message again. “The language is different from that fake-sounding Instagram post. It feels more authentic - casual, with the kinds of abbreviations young people use.”

The light changed, and Malik guided the truck through the intersection. “Call him. I want to hear his take on this.”

Tynan dialed Ian, putting the call on speaker. It rang twice before Ian answered, his voice slightly fuzzy from pain medication.

“Did you get the screenshot I sent?” he asked immediately, skipping any greeting.

“Yes, we’re looking at it now,” Tynan replied. “Are you sure it’s really from Hayley’s account?”

“Same username as her verified Instagram. I’m pretty certain it’s legit.” Despite the medication, Ian sounded excited. “What should I say back?”

Malik and Tynan exchanged a glance. “Nothing yet,” Tynan advised. “We’re almost at the workshop. Let’s talk this through first.”

“I’ll be waiting. I’m already home. Apparently, being young and fit works in my favor. Mam’s made me comfortable on the couch with about fifty pillows and enough tea to drown in.” Ian’s attempt at humor didn’t quite mask the pain in his voice.

“Rest up. We’ll call you right back,” Malik promised before ending the call.

When they arrived at the workshop, the front entrance was still a mess, though someone, likely the police or one of the neighbors, had managed to secure it temporarily with plywood and chains. Malik led them through the back entrance, checking carefully for any watchers before letting Tynan inside.

Sparky flew from Tynan’s shoulder to his perch near the window. “So the plot thickens,” he observed. “Our missing girl reaches out just after we’re attacked. Coincidence? I think not.”

“I don’t believe in coincidences,” Tynan agreed, settling at his desk and pulling up Ian’s message on his computer for a better view.

The message was brief but telling, both in what it said and how it was written. Hey, saw ur comment on my post. U work for the mech shop right? Need 2 talk 2 someone who isn’t connected to my mom. Can we meet?

“It doesn’t sound like someone being coerced,” Malik observed, reading over Tynan’s shoulder.

“No, it doesn’t,” Tynan agreed. “And she specifically mentioned not wanting anyone connected to her mother. That fits with what we’ve learned about their relationship.”

“But why contact Ian instead of you directly?” Malik wondered. “She must know her mother hired you.”

“Maybe that’s exactly why,” Tynan said slowly, pieces clicking into place. “If she knows her mother hired me, she might assume I’m working for Mrs. Cooper’s interests, not hers.”

“And she saw Ian’s name on her post, recognized it from somewhere…”

“The workshop,” Tynan finished. “She might have been a previous customer, or perhaps she checked his profile and didn’t see any connection to her mother. Either way, she’s reaching out to someone she perceives as neutral.”

Malik nodded thoughtfully. “So what’s our play here?”

Tynan considered for a moment. “I think we should arrange a meeting, but not with Ian. He’s injured, and I don’t want to put him at risk again.”

“Agreed. But if we reply from your account, she might get spooked.”

“What if Ian replies, suggests meeting, but mentions he’ll send his boss’s partner who happens to be a PI?” Tynan suggested. “That way, she knows I’ll be there but understands I’m coming through Ian’s connection, not her mother’s.”

“It could work,” Malik said cautiously. “But I don’t like the idea of you going alone, either. Not with Garrison’s crew still out there.”

“I won’t be alone. I’ll have Sparky,” Tynan said, then smiled at Malik’s expression. “And I’ll make sure it’s somewhere public, well-lit, with plenty of witnesses. Maybe that coffee shop she frequented?”

“The Percolator on Ninth,” Malik recalled from their research. “It’s busy, well-lit, and has multiple exits.”

“Perfect.” Tynan reached for his phone to call Ian back.

The young mechanic answered immediately. “Tell me I can write back,” he said eagerly.

“You can,” Tynan confirmed, “but we need to be strategic. I’d like you to suggest meeting at The Percolator on Ninth Street this afternoon around three.

Tell her you’re injured but would like to help, and that you’ll send your boss’s partner, who happens to be a private investigator - but not the one her mother hired. ”

“A little white lie,” Ian noted. “I like it. Technical truth, just missing some details.”

“Exactly. Make it clear I’m connected to you, not her mother.”

“Got it. I’ll send it now and let you know when she responds.”

They didn’t have to wait long. Within ten minutes, Ian called back.

“She agreed! Three o’clock at The Percolator. Says she’ll be wearing a blue scarf.”

Tynan checked his watch. That gave them about four hours to prepare.

“Did she say anything else?” he asked.

“Just that she’d explain everything when you meet, and to please not tell her mother.”

After ending the call, Tynan turned to Malik. “This could be our chance to find out what’s really going on.”

“Or it could be a setup,” Malik cautioned. “Garrison, finding another way to get to you.”

“I’ve considered that,” Tynan admitted. “But the message read genuinely. And if it is Hayley, she might be in trouble.”

Malik sighed, his protective instincts clearly warring with his practical side. “I don’t like you going without me.”

“You can’t close the shop again,” Tynan reasoned. “There’s a stack of cleaning up still to do, and someone needs to be here in case Garrison’s men return.” He stepped closer, placing his hands on Malik’s chest. “I’ll be fine. My magic is working reliably now, and I’ll have Sparky keeping watch.”

“And I’ll be vigilant,” the raven promised from his perch. “Any sign of trouble and I’ll create a diversion worthy of Hollywood.”

Malik still looked unconvinced, but finally nodded. “Fine. But we set up a check-in system. Text me when you arrive, after thirty minutes, and when you’re leaving. If I don’t hear from you at any of those points, I’m coming after you.”

“Deal.” Tynan kissed him lightly. “And I promise to fill you in on everything the moment I get back.”

As the hours passed, Tynan prepared carefully, reviewing everything they knew about Hayley Cooper and her mother.

He changed into clothes that looked professional but allowed freedom of movement if he needed to react quickly.

His glamor on his ears was holding strong - another benefit of his stabilized magic since bonding with Malik.

At two-thirty, he and Sparky set out for the coffee shop, taking a taxi to avoid being followed. The Percolator was just as Malik had described - a bustling café in the heart of downtown, with large windows and multiple entry points. Perfect for a safe meeting.

“I’ll do a perimeter check,” Sparky announced as they approached. “Make sure there are no suspicious characters lurking.”

While the raven did his reconnaissance, Tynan entered the café and secured a table near the back wall with a clear view of both entrances. He ordered a coffee and texted Malik: Arrived safely. No sign of trouble.

The reply came immediately: Be careful. Check in at 3:30 as planned.

At five minutes to three, Sparky returned, flying right through the open door and landing discreetly on the chair next to Tynan. “All clear outside. No sign of Garrison’s goons or anyone else suspicious.”

Tynan nodded, his eyes fixed on the front door.

Just as the clock struck three, a young woman entered wearing a blue scarf draped loosely around her neck.

She matched the photos they’d seen of Hayley Cooper - chestnut hair, pretty in an understated way.

She scanned the café nervously before spotting Tynan and making her way over.

“You must be Ian’s friend,” she said, sliding into the seat across from him. “He described you perfectly. You’re the private investigator.”

“Tynan,” he confirmed, offering his hand. “Thank you for agreeing to meet.”

She shook it briefly, her eyes darting around the café. “Is Ian okay? His message said he was injured.”

“He was hurt during a break-in at the shop,” Tynan explained, studying her reaction. “His arm is broken, but he’ll recover.”

Genuine concern crossed her face. “That’s terrible. Please tell him I’m sorry.”

“I will.” Tynan leaned forward slightly. “Hayley - it is Hayley, right? - Ian mentioned you wanted to talk to someone not connected to your mother.”

She nodded, unwinding the scarf from her neck. “I saw on social media that you’ve been asking about me. At first, I was angry, but then I realized she hired you, didn’t she? My mother?”

“Yes,” Tynan admitted. “She came to my office about three weeks ago, claimed you’d been missing for six weeks.”

Hayley laughed, though there was no humor in it. “Of course she did. And let me guess - she painted a picture of us as best friends? Said I tell her everything?”

“Something like that,” Tynan confirmed. “But your social media told a different story.”

“I bet it did.” She sighed, wrapping her hands around her coffee cup. “Look, I’m not missing. I left. There’s a difference.”

“I figured as much,” Tynan said gently. “Would you mind telling me why?”