Chapter One Hundred and Forty Six

...

"Coming, hottie, or are you planning on staying here all day?" Layla asked over her shoulder, nimble as she swung from a vine over his head.

Warren glowered. "Hippie, you're meant to complete the course, not fly above it!"

She just laughed and Warren followed after her, scaling a tree, his fingers and feet burying holes in the trunk to hold himself aloft. No one would appreciate him burning the whole thing down, after all. Jumping from one jutting rock column to the next, Warren muttered under his breath about cheating cheaters who cheated, and set a vine to create a bridge across the rest of the columns.

Layla was still ahead of him, working her way up a rock wall. He could hear the cries of a citizen dummy and wondered if it would count or detract from his score if he threw a fireball at it from this distance. Warren didn't actually remember if they were being villains or heroes this time around, anyway.

As if on cue, the dummy went flying off the rock landing, straight through his bridge. Well, he supposed they were villains now, he thought, grateful to hear the cries stopping as the dummy fell into a small pit of lava. More importantly...

"I just finished making that bridge!"

"Make it better next time. If that dummy went through it, then you wouldn't have been able to stand on it properly," Layla called.

She grinned down at him from her perch, chin in her palm as she watched him curiously.

"That's not the point! I was going to reinforce it," Warren said, setting another vine to repair the hole and strengthen the bridge.

When he was satisfied, Warren stepped out onto the first section. The bridge wobbled under his weight. Warren strengthened each step as he walked, slowly inching himself across the chasm below. Just as he reached the middle, he heard a snapping sound. Looking ahead and behind, Warren realised his mistake far too late.

Strengthening the section he stood on added more weight and didn't strengthen the goddamn parts holding him up on either end.

"Shit," he cursed, even as the bridge collapsed under him and he fell.

His failed bridge reached out on either end, grabbing him and wrapping around him entirely, Warren caught in the middle like a fly on a web.

"Thanks, hippie," he said, his heart pounding in his chest.

"Can you imagine what your mother would say if you died here?" Layla asked, walking down the bridge to help him.

"Probably that it was my own fault," Warren snorted. He didn't dare loosen Layla's handiwork, even as a net started to build below them. "Uh, hippie? What's your plan here?"

"Trampoline."

"That's an awful plan," Warren said. "We'll both hit it and send each other flying in different directions."

Layla laughed. "I think I saw that cartoon when I was younger."

"What cartoon? It's basic physics. Just get me up to the rock again without killing me. Please, hippie," Warren added.

"Oh, you're no fun," she teased, moving to kiss him. Somehow she was clinging to him without even an ounce of fear from her wrist, while Warren was terrified that she'd fall.

Layla let go.

"Layla!"

Her laughter followed her down, and Warren's cocoon untangled until he swung towards the rock face, one vine around his arm. It was enough to climb up, but he didn't care about that right now. Layla had fallen and she'd laughed like a maniac, and what if she'd died or hurt herself?

He turned in time for his back to smash against the rock wall, just as Layla bounced off her trampoline, and up into the air. How did she still have enough air to laugh? Warren thought, clinging to his vine rope with all his strength.

Forcing himself to climb, to not look down, Warren made it to the top eventually. Trees were different to giant fucking chasms filled with... well, the lava wouldn't be too bad, but that wasn't the point. He was far too off the ground right now and his girlfriend was a death-defying maniac.

"I'm still beating you," Layla called from the other side, waving before she started to climb the rock face again.

Warren wasn't going to let her get away with that. Powering up, he focused on heating his feet and hands, the fire burning so bright and hot that it disappeared to the naked eye. Rising up into the air slowly, he used more power to keep himself aloft, and flew across the stupid rock steps. More power meant he flew up past Layla, grinning smugly when he heard her gasp of annoyance. A vine shot past him, struggling to find purchase at the top of the cliff.

He was going to make it. He was going to win and... well, who cared? Layla couldn't climb as fast as he could fly, either way. As long as he didn't look down, he'd be fine.

Putting in more power, Warren's invisible flames flicked out to the vine as he rose higher. The vine burnt and snapped all in the same instant, Layla's gasp of surprise making Warren look down.

Nausea and dizziness hit him all at once, Warren forcing himself not to throw up. He flew back down to where Layla had fallen on the outcropping, stopping abruptly when he saw her lying motionless on the rock.

"Hippie?"

"Ow, fuck."

Warren breathed a sigh of relief, powering down and dropping to the flat rock beside her. He checked her over - a few scrapes and bruises, but thankfully nothing broken - and figured by the leaves around them that Layla had cushioned her fall with plants.

"You can use that," Layla said, even as she sat up with a low groan of pain.

"What?"

"Your flying thing. I didn't even see your flames; it just looked like you were flying. You can use it when we fight people."

"If we survive this first," Warren muttered, holding out a hand to help her stand.

Layla took it and let him help her to her feet, then brushed off her clothes. "Aw, I liked this shirt," she said, pouting at the scrapes that had destroyed the material.

"Just be grateful that you're alive, hippie. That fall almost gave me a heart attack," Warren muttered.

Layla let go of her ruined shirt and cupped his cheeks. "Something like that wouldn't kill me, Warren. I've always got my plants, okay?"

Warren had an awful vision of Layla without her powers, repressing cuffs on each limb, as she fell from a great height, while he was frozen and helpless to help her. Shaking his head to force the negative image away, he moved to kiss Layla to remind them both they were alive.

"Better now?" Layla asked.

"Better," Warren confirmed.

"Want to finish this together? Competing isn't doing either of us any good right now," she admitted wryly.

"Anything you want, hippie."

Layla smiled brightly and slipped her hand into his, squeezing gently before letting go and starting to climb. Warren powered up again, flying into the air and keeping his distance as he guided Layla up the wall until they both made it to the top.

A dummy was at the top, crying out for help. Layla and Warren didn't have to communicate, and suddenly the dummy was on fire, vines piercing through it entirely.

Terrence winced as Layla and Warren started to make out, withdrawing the drone as several people catcalled, wolf whistled, and booed loudly. "You can keep bitching or you can race me," Terrence called, running to the forest.

Craig, Ry, Pat, and the frog squad were after him in a second flat. Ethan was helping Justina remove the cacti spines from Robin, Zach offering bandages and antiseptic for each one that was removed.

"I am never ever falling into a cacti pit again. Fuck," Robin snapped, groaning in pain as yet another spine was pulled out.

"You look like a hedgehog," Justina snickered.

"I love you for helping me with this, Justina, but seriously: shut up."

"Aww, I love you too, Robin," Justina said, yanking another one and making Robin cry out in pain.

...

"We still don't know who bought the skyscraper, Mr. Mayor. They could be a villain, for all we know!"

"They bought out each individual investor, Jetstream. We can't compete with that," the Mayor replied.

"But what about the contract? It was a government-owned building. That means the Commander and I should have exclusive rights to sell it."

"They tried calling the Commander, Jetstream. He believed it was a hoax, so they called Trixie; she also has a contract to sell government-owned buildings, if you'll remember?"

Jetstream pursed her lips at the reminder. "Yes, I am aware of that."

"Good, then if you have no other complaints, I have a dinner reservation to get to," the Mayor said, herding Jetstream out of his office and stalking past her to get to the elevators without waiting.

Layla looked at Jetstream with a bemused smile. "How are you, Jetstream?"

"Frustrated, honestly. The man could be sitting right next to a villain and he wouldn't notice!" Jetstream muttered, rolling her eyes.

Layla bit back a laugh; technically, he was sitting next to a villain.

"Can you tell me where he's having dinner?" Jetstream asked hopefully.

"No, sorry. That's confidential," Layla said.

Jetstream frowned. "I've known you since you were a baby, Layla. I fed you and looked after you; remember who flew you to Paris that time?"

"My mother fed and looked after me, Jetstream, just as she did for your son when he visited. And you offered to take me to Paris; it wasn't something I asked for, nor should it be used against me now, almost ten years later."

Jetstream realised she'd hit a nerve and held her hands up in a gesture of peace. "Of course not. I shouldn't have brought it up. Why don't I get you some tissues? You're looking a little blotchy there," she added, wincing.

"I can get my own tissues," Layla said, obviously menstruating if her tone was anything to go by.

Jetstream waited until Layla had left to retrieve her tissues from the stationery cupboard and flew around the desk so she could access the Mayor's calendar on Layla's computer. Seeing the reservation for The Plantation, Jetstream flew over to the elevators, calling out a farewell over her shoulder as she stepped inside.

Layla returned with a tissue box in hand and refrained from rolling her eyes when she saw the Mayor's calendar open.

The Mayor and Jetstream were going to be in for a big surprise.

...

Honey moved from vision to vision, trying to ensure everything would go smoothly. After more than twenty years, she was finally going to stop the organisation.

She vaguely heard her phone ringing, but slipped deeper into a vision.

The phone rang, shrill and insistent, but it was ignored. The wardens' attention was fixated on the two in front of them, flames and vines reaching towards them.

Still, the phone rang.

Warden One reached out to the phone.

Honey reached out to her phone.

"Hello?" Honey asked, trying to force her mind out of the vision.

"Ms. Honey Olgestein, this is Detective Mia Jordan. How are you this morning?"

"There's a problem here, sir," Warden One said. "Nothing we can't handle."

"Good," Honey/their boss replied.

Mia frowned at the short and abrupt tone. "Uh, okay. I was wondering if you had time to chat today? I'd like to discuss Greta Auden."

Warden One set the phone down, ending the call, and Warden Two took the taser off their belt.

"Come on, then. What are you waiting for?" Honey/Warden One asked.

Mia frowned again. "Um... a time that's suitable? Do you want to meet now?" she guessed.

"All right. Bring it."

"Ookayy," Mia said, wondering exactly what was going on.

It didn't even sound like Honey was replying to her.

"Sarah!" Honey called, her name almost torn from her throat, even as she fell into the vision completely.

Hearing her name called, Sarah ran into Honey's office, seeing the glazed expression on her face and the phone held listlessly in her hand.

"Hello? Honey? Ms. Olgestein? Are you still there?" Mia asked.

"Hello? This is Sarah Bowman, who is this?"

"Detective Mia Jordan. I was speaking to Honey Olgestein. I think," Mia added, frowning.

"Oh... Honey is... unwell. Can I ask what you wanted to talk to her about?"

"I wanted to make an appointment with her to discuss a case I'm working on. Are you her secretary?" Mia asked. "Or colleague?"

Sarah glanced at Honey. "Her boss, actually. I was passing by. I'll have Honey call you back when she's feeling like herself again," she said. "Can I get your number?"

"Uh, sure," she said, giving Sarah her number. "I'll expect her call by the end of the day," Mia said, trying to sound stern.

Sarah bit back her laugh. "Then I hope Honey's feeling like herself again by the end of the day."

Flames wrapped around the warden, screams of pain ringing in the air. In the background, the phone started ringing again.

"Hello?" Warden Two said, eyes wide at the sight of their colleague on fire.

"Leave."

...

Jetstream flew through Maxville, checking her phone for the directions again. She swore these things got worse for flying supers every damn year. Making a mental note to tell the Super Bureau - someone at the Super Pen could surely design an in-flight GPS better, if their agents couldn't handle the simple task - Jetstream landed near the Paper Lantern to input her location and destination for the fourth time.

Waiting for it to connect and display before flying into the air, Jetstream raised an eyebrow when the directions said it was right down the street. Looking around the corner of the building, Josie slipped her glasses on when she saw the building up ahead. The Mayor was in there, probably having another meeting with his financial backers, and without her. Determined and self-righteous at being excluded, Josie flew over to The Plantation.

"You have arrived at your destination."

"Yes, I know," Josie muttered, turning the navigation off and putting her phone in her pocket.

Making her way inside, Josie was somewhat surprised to see it was a hotel. Well, the Mayor did like to change venues every so often (usually after Steve broke something expensive), so maybe he had hired one of the executive board rooms here, she mused.

Walking up to the reception desk, she fixed her hair and coat, smiling brightly at the concierge. She was a regular everyday citizen, nothing more. "Good evening, I'm here to see the Mayor."

"Oh? Oh, of course. Room 209," the concierge said.

Surprised that there wasn't more resistance or excuses, Josie nodded her thanks and went upstairs before he changed his mind.

The concierge picked up his phone and dialled the Mayor's room number. "Good evening, sir. The package you ordered is heading upstairs."

"Dammit, she's early," the Mayor muttered. "Get the food up here in five minutes, understood?"

"Of course, sir," the concierge said to the dial tone.

Deciding to take the elevator rather than the stairs and flying - she wanted to look like a citizen, not a super, after all - Josie tried to be patient as the elevator crawled down to the lobby. Her patience was wearing thin by the time it arrived, and the exceptionally slow pace didn't change on the way up, either.

Room 209 was in the far corner, and again Josie walked rather than flew. It felt like a whole ten minutes had passed since she entered the lobby!

Deciding to go in with a show of force, Jetstream took her glasses off and unbuttoned her coat to reveal her super suit. She didn't care what sort of meeting it was, she only cared that she was never excluded again.

Knocking on the door, she stood in her Firm and Authoritative pose, waiting.

"Come in!"

Great, the Mayor couldn't even open his own doors anymore, Jetstream thought, rolling her eyes.

Opening the door and striding into the room, Jetstream started on her speech. "You're not leaving me out of these - Jesus fucking Christ!"

The Mayor screamed on seeing Jetstream there, and tried to cover his naked body. There was a hesitant knock at the door, and Jetstream turned to see a waiter there with a cart covered in whipped cream and two bottles of champagne.

"I'll just leave this here. Mr. Mayor. Jetstream."

Jetstream was too shocked to fly after the waiter and set the record straight. She didn't know if she wanted to have a shower or throw up.

The morning headlines were going to destroy her.

...

Jetstream and the Mayor caught together at a local motel!

"How come you get to write the gossipy story? You wrote the last one," Honey groused at Sarah, stealing the last fried wonton off her plate.

"That was my wonton! I would have given the story to you, but you were out of it, remember? Did you call Detective Jordan back?"

"Called her this morning. She wants to meet me, Layla, and Mum this weekend about Greta."

"I thought she died?" Sarah asked, waving Honey's hand away from her spring rolls with her chopsticks.

"She did; heart attack. Detective Jordan is trying to find out who did it. Layla is the most suspicious in terms of motive, since she inherited everything."

"Uh huh. So who really killed her?"

"No idea," Honey said cheerfully.

"Yeah, right. You know who killed JFK, there's no way you're missing Greta bloody Auden's death. She was a cow and made you miserable as a child. You didn't kill her, did you?" Sarah asked, her eyes narrowed.

"No, but would it matter if I did?"

Sarah considered it for a moment, then grinned broadly. "It wouldn't matter if you paid for lunch."

...

"I don't know what you did to make them behave, but it worked a treat, and I honestly love you even more, Frieda," Babs said, kissing her deeply.

Frieda was breathless when they pulled away and blinked dazedly. "I'll do it again, if you like. Every day, if I get rewarded like that," she added, fanning her face.

Babs laughed and kissed her again, gently this time. "I should kiss you like that at least once a day, no matter what. I've been remiss, dearest. I think I should make it up to you."

Frieda laughed, shaking her head. "I can't take anymore orgasms today; I'm all orgasmed out."

"Are you now? And who's been giving you orgasms while I've been out working?" Babel asked teasingly.

"Myself. Oh, and several products from the Sweet Spot. Darla sent my new order by express post. I'm more than happy to demonstrate on you, dearest," Frieda said, a wicked gleam in her eye.

The doorbell rang loudly and they both sighed at the sound. Babel had a moment to wonder what would happen if she took Frieda up on her offer anyway; she was sure she could scream out in pleasure loud enough to drown out the sound of the doorbell.

"Afternoon, Babs. Don't hate me. I just needed to deliver these and then I'll leave. I couldn't leave them in the post box or you wouldn't have found them in time," Honey said, following her mother back to the kitchen.

"What are you delivering, dear? Do you want something to eat? Or drink?" Frieda offered.

"Plane tickets. Short notice, but you're leaving this Friday."

"What?"

"Your holiday had to be moved forward; Delattre is going to have a meeting for all UN representatives on the dates you have scheduled. It would include the super representatives and without you there, they'll be intimidated into doing what the citizens want. Call Melissa in HR and organise for your holiday time to be moved without letting anyone else know. I'll tell you what to say if you have to bribe her," Honey added, holding out two plane tickets and a post-it with Melissa's direct number.

"That... " Babel slipped into French, cursing Delattre for everything from being born to existing as a thorn in her side.

"Ooh, I do love it when you speak French, dearest."

"Call Melissa right now, then you can go do... whatever it is you were going to do. Don't pack the toys, your bags will be searched," Honey added.

Babel saw the lustful expression on Frieda's face and hurried to dial Melissa's number.

...

"So sorry Mum couldn't be here, they've had this holiday booked for months."

Mia Jordan tried to smile and not clench her jaw. She'd checked for herself and Honey was right, but she didn't have to like it. "Of course. Will Layla be here, or has she gone on the holiday, too?" she asked, trying so very hard to keep the snark out of her voice and probably failing.

Honey, Layla, and Frieda were the last three out of the ten people she had to interview. If the other seven were any indication, she would probably end up with a migraine by the end of this. Rhonda had been bad enough but then there was Mrs. Quinton who had moved interstate because her poor babies were scared and it had taken Mia far too long to work out she was referring to her dogs, rather than her children.

Deborah and Debbie spent most of their time bad mouthing each other instead of answering her questions.

Henry Olgestein had replied with very short answers once she'd verified that she wanted to talk about Greta's death. Mia's gut feeling told her something was off about that man, but she couldn't put her finger on what or why.

Edith had answered her questions with a level of anger that definitely didn't come from a friendship of over twenty years. Or perhaps it did.

Judge Hyacinth Salt had answered in brief snippets, her eyes always seeming to wander back to her desk littered with cases, as though Greta's death was the least of her worries. Mia had seen one of the files labelled as a case from 1985 and it still didn't make sense. Why on earth was Judge Salt looking at cases from over twenty years ago?

"Ah, there you are, Layla. I see you found Ollie after all," Honey said, grinning.

Mia frowned at the name. Who the hell was Ollie?

"She was hiding in the kitchen," Layla said, holding a tray of lemonade.

"I wasn't hiding. I was... experimenting," Ollie said lamely, glancing at the woman sitting across from Honey.

"Ollie, this is Detective Mia Jordan. She wants to ask Layla and me a few questions about Greta Auden's death."

Mia looked to Ollie and tried not to show her instant attraction to the cute blonde.

"Oh! Are you a forensic detective? I used to have a kit at home when I was a kid; I'd spend hours dusting things for fingerprints," Ollie said, grinning. "I swear it's what got me interested in science. Although my parents said I was born with a beaker in one hand and a magnifying glass in the other, which is why my mother had such a painful birth."

Layla looked at Honey in surprise. Where was the shy and timid scientist?

Honey gently guided Ollie to the armchair next to Mia and sat her down. "I'm guessing you experimented with the amount of sugar required for lemonade?"

"They say one cup but it's not real sweet like Gramma used to make," Ollie said, her eyes wide and innocent.

"I know, sweetheart. You stay there and try to keep settled, okay? We'll go for a jog later and work out the extra... shit," Honey swore as Ollie disappeared, the armchair spatially manipulated with her.

Mia's eyes widened. "What just happened? What the hell just happened?!"

"Um... Ollie just shifted. Excuse me a moment, would you? Oh, and I don't recommend drinking the lemonade. There's more sugar than liquid," Honey said as she left.

Layla set the tray down, curious to try the thickening lemonade despite Honey's warning. "Do you want to drink it or is it just me?" she asked with a laugh.

Mia opened and closed her mouth, her thoughts along a similar line. "I think my pen would stand up straight in that stuff," she admitted finally.

"Olivia Lynne Benson, get your ass back here! And bring my chair back!" Honey called, somewhere further in the house.

There was a flash of purple light and Ollie was back in the same spot, her hands clasped over her mouth to contain her giggles.

They all heard Honey approaching the lounge room, and there was another flash of purple light as Ollie and the armchair disappeared again.

"I'm sorry about this, Detective Jordan; Ollie is usually far more professional than this. She just didn't have a lot of sugar as a child, so anything she has now as an adult makes her hyper," Honey muttered. "It's like trying to control a kid in a candy store."

"Ooh, did you say candy?" Ollie asked, appearing again.

"Excuse me, Miss? Can I put this bracelet on you? I promise to take it off later," Mia said, her voice calm and gentle as she held out a power repressing cuff.

Ollie looked at her, her face trusting and innocent, and nodded. "Only 'cause you're pretty."

Mia hoped she wasn't blushing as she clipped the cuff on Ollie's offered wrist.

Ollie fell asleep almost instantly, her snores filling the room.

"How about we go to the kitchen? I think these glasses need to be cleaned. Or destroyed," Layla added, wincing at the liquid that was starting to turn solid.

Mia and Honey both followed, Ollie's snores following until Honey closed the door behind her.

"I think you should leave those for the garden, Layla; they won't do well in the water system."

Layla raised an eyebrow but set the tray aside and covered the glasses with a tea towel, just to be safe. Mia tried not to laugh, wondering exactly what she thought that thin rectangle of material was going to do.

"Sorry for the delay, Detective Jordan. You have some questions for us?" Honey prompted.

Mia nodded. "How long have you known Greta Auden?"

"All my life. She was my mother's friend and has been around since I was born," Honey replied.

"I only met her recently; I didn't know Greta was my relative until my mother's death last year," Layla said.

"What was your relationship with her like?" Mia asked.

"I thought she was a cow, but she was my mother's friend, so I wasn't allowed to say that to her face."

"It wasn't great. I was grieving my mother's death and she wasn't. She didn't like my mother and she made it clear that she didn't respect her beliefs about animal and human rights. It was difficult to live with her."

"Your adoption request included things she said and did to you. She sounds like an awful woman. How do you feel now she's dead?" Mia asked curiously.

"I'm relieved, honestly. She knows where Frieda lives and I always worry that she'll turn up and do something to me or Frieda," Layla admitted truthfully, giving a hollow laugh when she realised that her hands were trembling.

Honey reached across to squeeze her hand, smiling gently. "She's dead, sweetie. She can't hurt you again."

Layla just nodded, not trusting her voice. Over the muted sounds of Ollie's snores, the doorbell rang.

"Oh, that will be Ms. Martin with the cake."

"There's cake?" Mia asked, even as Honey stood to answer the door. She tried to remember where she'd heard the name Ms. Martin before.

"There's always cake at Honey's parties," Layla said with a brief smile.

"There's a party?"

Layla let out a laugh at Mia's confused question, the sound brittle. "She said it's natural to throw a party when your mother leaves the country and can only be contacted via satellite phone."

Before Mia could respond, the kitchen door opened again and Honey walked in with a large cake sitting precariously on a tray. Ms. Martin walked in after her, cupcake holder in hand and phone in the other. She stopped short when she saw Mia and Layla sitting there, raising an eyebrow from them to Honey.

"Honey, can we meet one time where you don't require my services?"

Honey snickered. "Where's the fun in that?"

Ms. Martin shook her head, set the cupcakes on the bench, and looked at Detective Jordan. "Why are you harassing my client?"

Holy shit. This was Ms. Martin, the lawyer. Oh, shit. She hadn't even started her course on how to deal with Ms. Martin yet!

"Just answer the question, Detective."

Mia swallowed hard. "I'm investigating the death of Greta Auden. It's to ensure there was no foul play."

"Mm-hmm. How much is their insurance company paying you to delay my client's payout? Is it enough to justify this harassment? Look at her; she's trembling like a leaf! Honey, can you get Layla a cup of tea?"

"Of course. Coffee for you?"

"Please. Now, what questions have you asked so far? I have a right to know what was said between you and my client without me here to represent her," Ms. Martin added firmly, holding out her hand for Mia's notebook.

"I just asked about her relationship with Greta, in case there was a motive."

"Greta Auden died alone in a locked house of a heart attack, Detective. How can you think Layla was responsible for something like that?"

Mia thought back to Fisher and his certainty that Layla had killed her Great Aunt. "Super powers."

"Layla's mother could talk to animals; exactly how do you get 'killer of an old isolated woman' from that?" Ms. Martin asked, even as she flipped through the notebook and Mia's handwritten notes.

"No one knows what her father could do."

Ms. Martin sighed, handed the notebook back to Mia, and looked to Layla. "This will be the last time you are harassed by any police officer over Greta's death, I assure you. She was an old woman who had a history of medical problems, including severe enough allergies to land her in hospital, and a fall that resulted in her own kitchen being set on fire. This is nothing more than a waste of government time and resources as a way for the insurance company to refuse paying you what you are owed."

Layla just nodded, still looking pale, though her hands weren't trembling now that she had her cup of tea.

"I will ask you to demonstrate the extent of your power. It is not necessary, but I want this to go on record so you aren't harassed over something as ridiculous as this in the future," Ms. Martin said.

Mia was trying not to show her utter embarrassment over Ms. Martin's scathing words, but waited and watched Layla in interest. If she could report Layla's power to Fisher, maybe he would stop obsessing.

Layla nodded. She sat her cup of tea down and looked around the kitchen. Several potted plants were sitting by the window, and she walked over to them, burying her hand in the dirt of one sad looking flower. As everyone watched - Ollie's snores the only sound in the house - petals unfurled, flowers brightened, and the stalks strengthened and straightened. Layla pulled her hand out of the dirt and wiped it off carefully. "That's my power: I make flowers pretty again," she said, going to wash her hands in the sink.

"That's it?" Mia asked, incredulously. She couldn't stop the question any more than she could stop her disbelief.

This was the super criminal mastermind that Fisher suspected of killing Greta?

Layla frowned as she dried her hands off. "What did you expect, Detective Jordan?"

Mia wasn't sure she could answer that question without sounding insane. She tucked her notebook away and stood up. "Thank you for your time, Honey and Layla. I apologise for the questions and any distress they caused. Enjoy the party," she added.

"Can we get a business card?" Honey asked.

"Oh, of course. My work number is on there, along with my mobile," Mia said, taking a card out of her pocket and offering it to Honey.

"Oh, it's not for me. Ollie will want to call and apologise later, I'm sure."

Mia processed that as Honey not so subtly led her to the front door. They passed the lounge room where Ollie was still sleeping and still snoring loudly. Mia only had time to wonder if she should include her personal number on the card before the front door was opened.

"Oh, my! Sorry, Honey, dear. I didn't realise you would be opening the door right at that moment. You gave me a fright," Edith said, one hand over her heart and the other trying to settle Elijah, who was babbling nonsensically.

Hyacinth was with her, settling Elliot in his baby carrier seat, but noticed Detective Jordan there. Looking to Honey in surprise and confusion, she bit her tongue to stop from making a snap judgment right there and then.

"Good morning, ladies. Thank you again for your time, Ms. Olgestein," Mia said, slipping out the door and over to her car.

"Honey, what's going on?" Hyacinth asked as Honey took Elliot from her, cooing at him and tickling his stomach.

"We're having a party. Come inside, more people are arriving," Honey said, making Elliot wave with a chubby fist to the cars coming and the one going. "Say bye-bye!."

"Bye-bye!" Elliot said with a giggle.

Honey grinned and kissed the crown of his head. "You're so smart. Come on, sweetie. Let's go see if Layla's okay, hey?"

Hyacinth was still confused, but followed them inside, determined to get answers. After the food this time.

...

End of the hundred and forty-sixth chapter.