Clever is as Clever Does (The Clever Detective) by Linsey Lanier

Chapter One
     
    I was sitting under one of the trees near Thrugood Castle, staring up at the bursts of gold and red above me, my head nestled on Prince Chad’s muscular lap, while he lazily popped grapes -- the sweet kind, not the sour -- into my mouth one by one, the dear boy.
    It was hard to believe it was Fall already.
    “He loves me,” I said, chewing on the juicy morsel, mooning over my paramour’s wavy dark hair and deep blue eyes. Those delicious peepers could make any female in the kingdom swoon. I swallowed and opened my mouth for another grape.
    Chad popped it in.
    “He loves me not.” I didn’t mind talking with my mouth full. Not about this topic anyway.
    We’d been seeing each other since I rescued the Prince’s sexy butt from a fire-breathing dragon a couple months ago, but he’d never actually said those three little words to me. Ace detective that I am, I figured he just needed a little help.
    He got a dreamy look in his eye and my heart skipped a beat. “Was not last night’s ball spectacular, Stacey?”
    No cigar. “It was okay.”
    “Just okay?”
    I thought of Chad eyeing a good-looking babe wearing glass slippers. “I don’t know. I’m getting tired of balls. After awhile, minueting, wearing scratchy dresses, and sitting around being fed by servants gets old.”
    “Most of the time, you work out and wear your jeans and boots and those wonderfully close-fitting T-shirts. Besides I’m the servant feeding you right now.” He held up a grape and lifted a brow.
    He was making my blood run hot, but I shook my head and sat up. “I don’t know, Babe. I think I need to go back to work.”
    He looked surprised. “Why?”
    “I’m bored.”
    Just then a rabbit came hopping up the trail, heading right for us. It wasn’t your ordinary, garden-variety bunny. This one was about the size of a Saint Bernard, dressed in a plaid coat and tie, with a fedora on his head. And of course, he talked.
    “Sire,” he said as he reached us, alarm in his voice. Then he bowed his head, snatched his hat off his head, and lowered his ears in respect.
    Chad rose, helped me to my feet and gave him a regal nod. I made an attempt at a curtsy, but I looked more like a skinny linebacker being tackled. Especially compared to the graceful flamingos at the ball last night. If I was going to stick around here, I really needed to get in touch with my inner girly-girl.
    “What is it, Wenceslas?” Chad asked.
    Wenceslas? Well, what else would you call a three-foot tall rabbit? The movie Harvey came to mind. Maybe I’d been in this place too long.
    “Somethin’ awful’s happened, sire,” the bunny said with a distinct Brooklyn accent.
    Chad looked concerned. “Is that girl still chasing you?”
    “Alice?” Wenceslas shook his head. “Naw, we worked out our differences a couple weeks ago.”
    “That’s good. What is it then?”
    His round eyes took on a glassy hue. “Oh, sire. There’s been a murder.” Only he said “moider,” like someone in an old James Cagney movie.
    Now my ears perked up. Murder was my area of expertise. Investigating it, that was. “Who’s the victim?”
    “Oh, you won’t believe it.” His whiskers flickered and he began to talk a mile a minute. “I was sound asleep this morning, when I was wakened by a terrible pounding on my door. Bam, bam, bam. I got up and opened it. It was one of the dwarfs. The one who can’t stay awake. I knew something had to be wrong if he was visiting that early.”
    “How early was it?” I asked.
    “About nine.”
    “That’s not so early.”
    “It is for him.”
    It was also about an hour and a half ago, I noted. “Go on.”
    “Well, the poor fellow was beside himself. He could barely talk.” Unlike present company. “I brought him in, sat him down, gave him a cup of coffee.”
    This was getting detailed. I rolled my hand, like a director trying to speed up the action.
    “That’s when he told me what happened. They had all gotten up to get