by Willow Mason
With a guilty gasp, I ran to the foot of the stairs and peered upwards into my mother’s angry face. “It’s not what you think,” I said, scampering up the steps. “He’s not a man, he’s Brody.”
Muffin sniggered, no doubt storing up that titbit for a later revelation.
“If that’s meant to mean something, I don’t know what it is.” My mother perched her hands on her hips and glared.
“Leave her alone, love,” Ben called out. “If she wants to shack up with a man, it’s only because you and I gave her a shining example.”
“He’s my cousin.” I reached the top of the stairs and hugged my mother, ignoring the thunderous expression. “There’s no chance of funny business. He just can’t afford his own place at the moment, so I told him he was welcome to stay.”
“What cousin?” My mother refused to be mollified. “I don’t recall any cousins with that name. I hope you’ve not let a stranger take advantage of your hospitality. You’re such a generous soul, you must pay extra special attention. Otherwise, you’ll end up destitute.”
“I’m careful.”
“Hm. Well, this Brody better be able to recite our family history backwards and forwards, otherwise, he can look for another place to stay tonight.”
“You can’t kick out my roommate.” I mirrored my mother’s body language, shoving my hands onto my hips with my chin jutting out. “And what family history? You haven’t told me anything about our family.”
“Of course, I have. You know Uncle Pete and Aunt Ginny.”
“Wow. Okay. And are we now pretending that’s the entire family?”
My mother’s face went dull with shock, but she soon rallied. “It’s the only part we care about. Now, where’s this room? Ben needs to rest after the long drive up here.”
“I’m okay,” Ben called out from downstairs. “Why don’t you come down and join us in a cup of tea. They’ve got muffins.”
“They soon won’t if you keep guzzling them,” Muffin said, followed by a string of what might have been kitten expletives. “Elisa, can you get your family under control? This isn’t acceptable behaviour.”
I rolled my eyes at my familiar, remembering too late my mother couldn’t hear the kitten so thought I was dissing her.
“That’s how you treat your mother now?”
With a sigh, I closed my eyes and remembered how nice our daily phone calls had been. Since moving out of my childhood home a few years ago, I’d forgotten how tiring it could be to spend time with my mother in person. Over the phone she was lovely.
Deciding it would be best to extricate myself rather than continue sparring, I walked back to the kitchen.
Downstairs, Ben sat, happy as a clam with a cup of tea in one hand and the remains of a peach and custard muffin in the other. A distraught kitten sat opposite him while Darla and Reggie stood, declining offers from my quasi stepfather that he had no right to make.
“We should probably get going,” Darla repeated as soon as I walked into the room.
“Nonsense,” Ben insisted, pulling his chair around to face the witch. “There’s plenty of time left in the day. Tell me how you know our Lisey.”
Ugh. How I hated the nickname. What was so difficult about pronouncing three syllables? “That’s not my name.”
“She loves it, really. Little Lisey. I’ve called her that since she was only this high.” Ben’s hand hovered about two feet off the floor. Considering he’d begun dating my mother when I was at high school, his approximation of my height missed a good three and a half feet.
“Where’s this Bodie?” my mother demanded, stopping to plaster a kiss on the side of Ben’s face.
“Brody and he’s at a job interview at the moment.”
“He doesn’t have a job!” Mum’s face collapsed in horror. “Oh, no. No. No. This won’t do at all.”
Muffin snuffled in a way that sounded suspiciously close to muffled laughter. I helped myself to another treat from the tin, quelling her amusement with a large bite. “Brody has a job at the Tavern Café. He’s just looking for something better.”
“And what are you doing? Have you found something yet?”
“I’ve got an interview lined up at the library,” I merrily fibbed, thinking what my mother didn’t know couldn’t hurt her.
“What do you do?” My mum stared straight at Darla, unfazed at the fact she was demanding answers from a stranger.
“I’m a compounding chemist.”
“Now, see.” Mum pointed to Darla in case I’d somehow missed the fact she was sitting there. “That’s a real job. Perhaps you should take some time to work out what you want from life and train up while you’ve got the energy.”
Visions of report cards where the alphabet began at C then went downhill strayed into my mind. I’d struggled through secondary school and now my mother believed I could handle a tertiary education. Fat chance.
“What room are we staying in?” Ben asked, leaning back and patting his fed belly. His expression was so like Muffin’s after she’d had a feed that I couldn’t help but smile. “I’ll fetch the bags from the car.”
“How long are you staying?”
“Why? Is there a problem? What else are you hiding? Are you a punk now? Is that why you’ve coloured your beautiful hair?”
I tucked a strand behind my ear and smiled guiltily. In the rush of her arrival, I’d forgotten there were a lot more changes going on than just my roommate or the inherited house.
“Just asking so I can buy more groceries when I’m shopping today.”
My mother hooked an eyebrow up, nostrils flaring as she scanned my face. “Okay, then. We don’t have any formal plans. I’ve just been worried, what with your discoveries of dead bodies everywhere. Thought I’d check in and see what’s going on.”
“The killer was found and sorted,” Reggie said, easing himself into a chair and earning a scowl from Darla. “We’re usually a peaceful place. Ask anyone.”
“It’s not like I stumble across bodies every day, Mum.” I reached over and hugged her. “And you’re welcome to stay as long as you like. You know that.”
She bit her lower lip, suddenly appearing closer in age to me.
“Come on, Kayla,” Ben said, giving her a pat on the rear. “Once I’ve sorted out the luggage, we can take a nice stroll around town and see what this place is like for ourselves.”
“Fine.” She threw out her arms. “Just call me an overreacting busybody. Show us this spare room and we can work things out from there. But remember, I’m still happy for us to stay somewhere else. Don’t want to be a burden.”
My insides squirmed at her protestations, but I kept my mouth shut. No matter what I said, it would go down the wrong way.
Although my mother would already have seen my messy bedroom, I closed the door as I reached the landing. Brody’s attic room was up a short staircase to the side of my room and I walked straight past, unlocking a side door and showing Mum and Ben inside.
“I think this used to be the servant’s quarters,” I explained, opening the shutters. “There’s a bathroom through the connecting door there”—I pointed—“and the sliding door here opens onto a balcony.”
Mum ventured outside, gripping the railing and shaking it firmly before heading back indoors. “It doesn’t seem safe. Have you got a building inspection?”
“No, not yet.”
“These old places can be death traps, you know.”
I nodded. Considering the house was self-repairing, I wasn’t worried in the slightest, but that explanation was at the end of a long road I didn’t want to venture down.
“We’ll just keep the door locked,” Ben said, doing the deed. He stood back and twirled around, his eyes taking in everything. “This is far grander than anything I was expecting. If you sell this place, you’ll make a mint.”
“I have no plans to sell,” I blurted as Muffin’s face turned thunderous. “This is just perfect.”
Darla sidled into the room, her prot
estations she must go overturned by the temptation of snooping. Reggie pressed in behind, his nostrils flaring as he sniffed the air.
“It’s musty,” I apologised, opening a window. “As far as I know, Great Aunt Esmerelda didn’t use this part of the house at all.”
“She certainly didn’t.” Muffin strode across the room and jumped on the bed, raising a cloud of dust. “Do you feel the atmosphere? It’s downright oppressive.”
Between the expected and unexpected guests, I hadn’t noticed, but after Muffin drew my attention to it, I had to agree. The feeling of disuse was one thing, but I struggled to catch my breath in the heavy air. Unusual and unpleasant.
“There’s something hidden away over here,” Reggie said, tugging at an inset closet door. Locked. He sniffed along the tiny gap between the door and the jamb, growing more excited with each breath. “It smells old and wonderful.” A line of drool oozed from the side of his mouth, turning the denim of his overalls inky blue where it landed.
“Use your magic,” Muffin said, forgetting her antipathy towards Reggie as she joined him in clawing at the door.
Hunching my shoulder to hide my actions from Mum, I scratched a small helping of pixie dust from my head and visualised a key. With a soft blow, the smoke travelled out in a thin line, then reversed direction, leading me towards my bedroom.
It hung in a small cloud above my keyring before dissipating into the surrounding air.
“Good point,” I muttered under my breath, walking back to the spare room and flicking through the keys until I found one the right size. “Stand back, Reggie.”
The werewolf took an obedient step away, catching Muffin around the midriff and lifting her clear when she paid no attention. I slotted the key into the door and turned it, trying to ignore the flutter of anticipation in my belly.
“Voila!” I flung the door open. A broom propped in the corner began a slow tumble forward and I caught it, staring inside the cupboard with disappointment. “What smells so exciting about a broom closet?”
But Reggie was already inside, pressing at the corners. “There’s a false wall back here,” he said, giving it a punch.
I winced and glanced at Muffin. “Perhaps we should use a crowbar or something?”
“No, I’ve got it.” Reggie gave the wall another punch, hitting it so hard with his knuckles my hand ached in sympathy. One more knock and the wood splintered, giving him access to insert a hand into the gap.
Although my feet wanted to walk backward, I forced myself nearer to the closet, staring into the gloomy shadows behind the fake backboard. “Can you see what’s in there?”
“Bones.” Reggie sniffed, then pulled at the collapsing wood, revealing a skeleton.
It stood upright, with all the pieces in their proper places. A faint glow emanated from it, so dim it wouldn’t be visible except for being stored in a dark cupboard.
“I love bones,” the werewolf growled, snuffling closer. “And these have been here for decades, getting ripe.”
Mum held a hand to her mouth, then ran to the bathroom. The sounds of her being sick made me gag in sympathy.
Reggie stretched out a finger and caressed a clavicle with unrestrained longing. The bones shrieked, as if in pain, and collapsed into a pile on the floor, puffing up a cloud of sparkling dust.
“Perhaps we should just settle for sleeping on the couch,” Ben said, scuffing his feet and casting concerned glances everywhere. “Seems like this room’s already taken.”
Chapter Three
“This is the skeleton of a pixie,” Officer Syd Abney told me hours later, once the pathologist had carefully removed the bones from their hiding place and documented everything he needed.
“How can you tell?”
“The remnants of pink hair and the sharp chin. If the remains still had cartilage, you’d also have seen pointed ears.” He shuffled his feet back and forth, glancing over his shoulder when Ben told a joke outside that earned a round of laughter. “There’s also pixie dust all over the floor. Whoever sealed the body up inside, did it while it was still intact.”
My stomach heaved, and I held a hand up to forestall any more forthcoming information. “That’s impossible. The stench of a rotting corpse isn’t something a few boards can seal in.”
“But a magic spell might do it. At least until nothing but the bones were left.”
Muffin trotted into the lounge, making a beeline for my lap. “I think your mother has sorted out new accommodation. Reggie is bringing around a large tent and they’ll weather the elements outside.”
“That’s ridiculous.” I frowned at my mother and Ben as though they’d found a body on purpose just to spite my hospitality. “They can use my room and I’ll sleep on the couch. It’s not like they’re going to stay here for months on end.”
“Better grab Reggie before he heads off,” Muffin warned. “He seems very enthusiastic.”
“He’s basically an overgrown dog,” I muttered. “Enthusiasm is his natural state.”
Muffin smiled in appreciation before closing her eyes and falling deeply asleep. I envied her the ability. For myself, I forecast a long night ahead with every creak in the floorboards turning into a roaming skeleton.
“How long has the body been in here?”
“Hard to tell. Once the pathologist examines the bones in more detail, he might hazard a guess. We’ll check whatever features we can determine against the missing person register.”
“Not even a guess?”
Syd rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. “I just hope it was whoever owned the place before Esmerelda. I was fond of the old duck and would hate to think she hid a body in the walls.”
I nudged Muffin, wanting to ask her questions, but she was either solidly asleep or feigning the state to avoid me.
“How many people go missing from Oakleaf Glade each year?” I asked. “Surely there can’t be that many.”
“Lots of people go missing everywhere, all the time.” Syd closed his notebook and tucked it away in his breast pocket. “Oakleaf Glade isn’t any different. If the pathologist can narrow it down to a year, we’ll have a good chance of working it out. Any wider a gap and we might never identify the victim.”
“The body,” I corrected. “We don’t know they’re a victim of anything.”
“Fair enough.” Syd sauntered towards the door, keeping a close eye on the position of everyone outside. “But then you’ve got to answer why someone would board up a body in their spare room if the lady died of natural causes. Can you think of a reason?”
“Give me time and maybe I’ll come up with something.” I pressed my lips together. “But no, I can’t think of anything on the spot.”
“In the meantime, keep the spare room locked. Until we can work out if we’re dealing with a crime scene, it’ll be best to restrict the foot traffic.”
“Believe me. Nobody is going in that room.” I shuddered. “I’ve half a mind to sell the place just so I don’t have to think of it ever again.”
“Elisa!” Rosie waved and jumped off her bicycle, dropping it near the front gate. “How’re you doing, you poor love? We heard all about it.”
Posey reached me sooner, wrapping her arms around me in a bear hug. “What a terrible experience.” She stepped back, cupping my face in her hands. “I swear this town is usually a lot nicer to live in.”
“I’m starting to think you’re a murderer,” Rosie joked, giving me a shy smile as she fluttered her wings. “Until you turned up, we’d gone decades without a dead body, except by natural causes.”
“Which this might still be,” I said, the idea sounding even weaker the second time around.
“What? You think the world champion at hide and seek was in your spare room all this time?” Rosie pulled her mouth down at the corners before bursting into laughter. After a few seconds, she spluttered to a halt. “Sorry. I’m just in a state of shock.”
“Do you think Esmerelda’s behind it?”
Rosie’s ey
es opened wide and Posey rushed over to stand beside her sister. “Nobody here thinks that at all. The body must’ve been stashed in the walls all the time she lived there.”
I remained silent, but inside I was calculating the likelihood of that scenario and coming up short. I’d found the body within a month of moving in, but the twins expected me to believe that my great aunt had somehow missed it for decades? No way.
Reggie and Darla made a move for the gate and I intercepted them midway. “You don’t need to bring the tent,” I assured them. “My parents can spend the night in my room, and I’ll bunk on the couch.”
“Sounds good but if I were you, I’d check with them before you make those plans too solid.” Reggie lifted his dreads and repositioned them to one side. “Ben especially is keen on outdoor living.”
“Or the idea of it, at least,” Ben said, coming up behind me. “The reality might be different.”
I sniggered, remembering a camping trip where my stepfather had set off believing he was Bear Grylls and returned as a diva. Even glamping couldn’t forestall the horrors of a noisy forest at night.
“But you shouldn’t have to take the sofa. I can do that.”
“And leave me sharing a room with my mother?” I pulled a face. “No, thanks. And the two of you can’t fit on our couch.”
“What are you discussing?” Mum inserted herself into our group, grabbing my chin between her thumb and forefinger. “You look different.”
“It’s the clean air of a small town that does it,” Syd said, taking an enormous inhalation. “Makes your hair stand on end.” He winked, then waved as a car pulled up to the curb. “There’s Lucas. Since this case is”—he paused and tilted his head to one side while considering my mum and Ben—“standard issue.”
“Nothing standard about it.” My mother pulled me into a hug that cut off my ability to breathe. “The sooner you leave this horrid place, the better. First, you have a serial killer stalking the town and now you find a corpse inside your house.”
“A long-dead one,” I reminded her. “If there was any foul play involved, the perpetrator will probably be dead, too.”
