Dance in the Dark by Megan Derr

to replace and a kitchen to redo. That's why I wrote to you; I need this to stop before I'm left with nothing."
    Johnnie nodded. "I will certainly do my best. If no motive is immediately present, then we must widen our scope. Have you heard of anyone else having such problems?"
    Peyton stared at him in surprise. "Hadn't thought of that."
    "Then we shall start there," Johnnie said, not relishing the thought, because it would get back to his father that much faster that he was slumming around solving mysteries.
    "I can do that," Micah said. Johnnie frowned, because wandering around town might be a bad idea, but he was capable of it. Micah sat down next to him and grinned. "They're more likely to talk to me than you, Mr. Fancy."
    Johnnie rolled his eyes, but conceded the point. "The help would be appreciated. In the mean time, I will see what I can learn from the fire and the other attacks."
    Micah stood, then motioned to the witch at the far end of the bar. "Come on, Walsh. You can help, you know the east corner better than I do."
    Rolling his eyes, Walsh never the less finished his beer and stood up, raking back his shaggy black hair and shrugging into an old, beat up, brown corduroy jacket. Waving to Peyton, he nodded to Johnnie as he passed, pulled on an equally worn flat cap and followed Micah out of the bar.
    Turning back to Peyton, Johnnie asked, "May I see the kitchen?"
    "You can have the run of the place," Peyton said. "Whatever you need."
    "Thank you," Johnnie said, and stood up. He stopped as he turned away, and turned back again. "I do not suppose someone would be willing to fetch my belongings? I brought them along, in case this took me longer than a few hours, but I was forced to leave them at my rooms in the Hummingbird Building."
    Peyton snorted in amusement. "Sure. You want the upstairs room again?"
    "If that is possible," Johnnie said.
    "Of course it's possible," Peyton replied. He turned and called out, "Hey, G-man. Wake up!"
    Over in the corner, the dozing man stirred. He sat up slowly and shoved back his baseball cap, revealing a rather plain-featured, clean-cut man. His eyes were still foggy with sleep as he grumbled out a rough, "Huh? What?"
    "Run me an errand, man," Peyton said. "Hoof it to the Humm-B and fetch the belongings of Johnnie Goodnight."
    "Give them this," Johnnie said, and held out one of his business cards, his signature on the back so they would know it was definitely upon his request.
    G-man blinked at Peyton, then at Johnnie, then slowly stood up. He removed his hat, raked his hair back, then shoved the cap back on. "Fine," he grunted, "but I want a beer when I get back." He did not wait for an answer, just took the business card and left
    Peyton chuckled at Johnnie's expression. "G-man is always like that; don't mind him. He's a huge help around here."
    Johnnie shrugged. "It makes no difference to me. I appreciate his assistance. The kitchen?"
    "Through that door. Call if you need me."
    Nodding, Johnnie strode through the indicated door and into the kitchen. He wrinkled his nose at the stench, grimacing at the wreckage. Really, only the process of elimination and Peyton's comments about the fire starting with it, allowed him to identify the wreck as the stove. The fire had spread to the counters, the floor, scorched the ceiling … it was painfully clear that if Walsh had not been on hand to stop it, the fire could have very well succeeded in destroying the entire bar.
    He knelt as close to the mess as he dared get and closed his eyes, breathing in the smells. Smoke, charred metal, melted plastic, traces of food and grease … and a hint of magic, so faint that he almost thought he was imagining it. There was the possibility it was traces of the witch magic which had stopped the fire, but he did not think so. He had smelled chalk and magic in the bar, so Walsh had probably used a spell circle to stop it.  There was also the fact that the smell of magic seemed tangled with the fire, not