Exactly. Like the talking raccoon. Look inside that book, Raven, and see if the Whitleys weren’t dabbling in something dark that they had no right to be fiddling with. I wouldn’t put it past these bumbling fools to have stumbled upon an ancient magical tome.
I wish it had been something that simple, but I’m pretty sure that the reason my palm had begun harvesting energy was to warn about the bombshell Mr. Whitley was about to drop right in the middle of this formal living room.
You make it sound like he’s about to push the big red button for a nuclear launch. Whatever he has to say can’t be as bad as you and Rye opening portals to the afterlife through some convoluted magical mishap.
“My dear Ms. Marigold, I most certainly was at the cemetery earlier this morning. It was also me and Stella who were able to put things back to where they belong, though it sucked the energy right out of us doing so,” Mr. Whitley explained calmly after taking a sip of his tea while leaving me still standing in shock at his admission. “Unfortunately, the two of us putting things in their rightful place didn’t include Caroline Abigail’s remains. Do you know where they might have gotten off to, Ms. Marigold?”
It doesn’t quite rival a nuclear explosion, but the old geezer has definitely blown my mind.
“Of course not. I haven’t any idea,” I replied in haste, having an inkling of suspicion that I would find my answers faster if I opened the book I currently had in my grasp. I also didn’t want Mr. Whitley to think my visit here today had anything to do with guilt. “Why would you believe I had something to do with the desecration of one of your family’s final resting place?”
“I’ve been on this earth for a very long time, Ms. Marigold.” Mr. Whitley nodded toward the leather-bound book I had clutched in my hands. He took his time savoring another sip of tea and then taking a bite of his gingerbread cookie. Only when he nodded his approval at the delicious taste did he finish explaining what he’d meant. “Stella and I had no choice but to make things appear normal once we realized what had taken place. We took care of what needed to be done.”
What does good ol’ Arthur mean by that, Raven? We took care of what needed to be done…that last sentence sounded a bit ominous, don’t you think? This is taking way too long. The suspense is killing me, and that’s not fair to Skippy or that garbage eater.
“Why would you actively cover up a crime, Mr. Whitley?” I asked cautiously, finally reaching for the cover of the leather-bound book. Leo wasn’t the only impatient one, and Mr. Whitley was taking too long by drinking his tea and eating his cookie. “Liam thought my friend and I overreacted last night due to the circumstances, and now there is no evidence to the contrary.”
Mr. Whitley slowly nodded as if what I’d said made sense to him. Even so, he took another bite of the gingerbread cookie as he continued to regard me…suspiciously. I’d been nothing but honest with him, yet his sharp blueish-green eyes told me he didn’t believe a word I’d said since entering his home. Did he have some special insight that I wasn’t aware of?
How does it feel to be the other shoe?
Leo had totally botched that old saying, but I got his meaning. I hadn’t believed him about the talking raccoon, and now here I was being doubted by Mr. Whitley.
No, it wasn’t nice.
What did Mr. Whitley know that we didn’t?
The answer lies in the book. Wow. I’m like an old wise mentor from those feel good movies.
I ever so slowly pulled back the front cover of the book, the leather spine crackling from being unused for so long. At first, I wasn’t sure what I was looking at until I used the silk bookmark to turn to the page that had been purposefully saved. I began to read the content more thoroughly, and it wasn’t long before my heart began to race once more and a cold sweat broke out onto my skin.
No wonder the palm of my hand had harnessed energy in an attempt to protect me…and the town of Paramour Bay by extension.
Protect Paramour Bay? What did you find, Raven? Was I right about the raccoon apocalypse? I was, wasn’t I?
“Ms. Marigold, that book you hold in your hand is the secret to youth.” Mr. Whitley took another bite of his gingerbread cookie as if he hadn’t just announced what could possibly expose the supernatural realm to the rest of the world. “It’s been exactly three hundred and eighty years since my great-great-great-great grandmother took a very special sapphire ring to the grave with her…the exact length of time needed for that precious gem to harness the energy of the earth in order to provide eternal youth for one of her descendants.”
Would you look at that? You were spot on with the number of greats.
Being right about the amount of generations that had passed gave me no comfort when a spell of this magnitude was about to be unleashed from the grave—by a mere human.
Well, when you put it like that…
Chapter Nine
“Jack is on his way here now from the airport,” Heidi said with reluctance, having already pulled the phone away from her ear and disconnected the call. Her blue eyes were filled with worry, but I wasn’t about to concern her even more by divulging my theories. It was fortunate she hadn’t asked me point blank what I was considering doing. Otherwise, she would have known immediately I was hatching something and cancelled her plans. In turn, her abrupt decision to cancel would have made Jack suspicious. “Are you sure you don’t want me to hang around?”
My dear Heidi has a point. She might be helpful in this situation.
Leo was just saying that because he was a wee bit jealous and despised the fact that Heidi was dating a detective.
Oh, trust me…that oaf of a detective could be an archangel for all I care. He still wouldn’t be good enough for my Heidi.
The point I was trying to make originally was that I wasn’t so sure Heidi should cancel her plans, and I wasn’t about to ruin her Saturday night with this tomfoolery.
You see, I’d come back to the cottage directly after I’d finished speaking with Mr. Whitley. His claim that someone in his family had unearthed the sapphire ring to attain eternal youth had been said with complete conviction, which could only mean one thing—he had no idea that I was in possession of said precious gem.
Don’t get me wrong.
He out and out accused me of being the one to take the sapphire ring, but he didn’t know for sure, especially after my unexpected visit…and that was to my benefit.
Mr. Whitley had continued to enjoy his tea and cookies while casually explaining that he’d rigged the crypt with a single security camera so that he could keep an eye on the family secret from the privacy of his residence. At no point did he offer any apologies for what he’d done. Then again, if he were telling the truth…well, he’d only been doing what he’d thought was the best course of action at the time.
As for Clifford Meyers, he had no clue of what his older uncle had done. He was completely in the dark. Still, who else would have known about the security feature? It was that sole camera that had alerted Mr. Whitley that someone had desecrated the grave. An alarm had been triggered, causing Mr. Whitley and Stella to realize something had occurred at the cemetery last night. Unfortunately, it was to find that the camera had been damaged.
The footage only showed static, meaning that the assailant had known all along there had been a security camera installed inside the crypt. Mr. Whitley had assured me that no one outside of him and Stella had known about the camera’s existence, but obviously he had been wrong.
It was also his way of being very passive-aggressive, indicating that I could have had something to do with the family’s missing ring and the desecration of the Whitley’s crypt. After carefully navigating that conversation, it was then that I realized he truly didn’t know anything about my family secret. His wife had spoken to my grandmother about the book she’d found amongst some rather old books in the family library. It hadn’t taken Mr. Whitley’s wife long to seek out the person most likely to know about holistic means.
Bottom line?
He then took the book from my practically burning hand and all but told me the ring would be useless without the spell. I’m pretty sure there was an underlying threat to his tone that indicated he’d burn the book before allowing anyone other than him to obtain immortality.
Oddly enough, I think that was Mr. Whitley’s way of saying I should come clean and we could come to some sort of agreement. It was nothing short of bribery, but I’d stuck to my guns and my claim that I had no idea what he was talking about.
Can a person burn a sapphire? That would solve all of our problems.
“Heidi, you deserve a nice evening with Jack,” I said, meaning every word. I’d taken so long to answer that she’d even held her phone up to indicate all she had to do was call Jack back to cancel their plans. “I promise to text you if I find anything of substance in my research of this so-called claim of eternal youth. You and I both know that all kinds of folktales exist. The idea of an enchanted gem harvesting magical energy for three hundred and eighty years and then it being used in some type of ritual to bestow immortality on a human is next to nil.”
I’d already made a pot of coffee, even though it was only four o’clock in the afternoon. Having gone by the tea shop to check on Beetle, I’d picked up a fresh grind of Columbian Supremo, and he’d offered to close up at five o’clock since he was driving into the city to meet my mother for dinner. That was another story altogether that I didn’t even want to think about—my mother dating my part-time employee at the shop.
Hairball.
I completely reciprocated Leo’s stomach-churning nausea at the litany of disturbing images that thought produced.
“Liam is coming over in a few hours, which gives me just enough time to research the history of the Whitley family here in Paramour Bay and to find out if there is any truth to Mr. Whitley’s claims. If Mr. Meyers sees himself as some sort of guardian of the family crypt, then it would be a safe bet that Clifford was the one who desecrated the Whitley’s burial chambers in search of valuables.”
“Cliff was acting more than a bit odd this morning,” Heidi pointed out before walking to the window. She stroked Leo’s back while making sure Jack hadn’t pulled up out front. “I still don’t understand how such an expensive ring ended up in a basket with costume jewelry at a garage sale.”
If the oddball thought it was his responsibility to guard the family crypt, then maybe he was the one to chuck the ring into a random basket. Maybe he didn’t want his old geezer of an uncle to get his grubby hands on it. Such a decision would solve everyone’s problems, right?
“Jack is here,” Heidi called out, leaning down to give Leo a kiss on the head. “Be good, my handsome boy. And make sure Raven stays out of trouble.”
Please tell my beloved Heidi that the odds are against me in accomplishing that feat.
“Call or text me if anything happens!”
Heidi was gone in a blink of an eye, leaving me sitting on one of the stools at the island while I thought over our predicament. I took a sip of my coffee, allowing the rich warmth to flow through me and the caffeine to do its job.
“You make an excellent point, Leo.”
I do? I mean, of course, I do. Just refresh my memory on what that exact point was again.
“You said that Mr. Meyers tossing away the ring would solve his problems of having to watch the crypt. Doing so would definitely help him in his quest, so maybe he was the one who dropped the ring into a basket of costume jewelry. No one would ever be the wiser, and anyone looking for the sapphire ring would eventually give up their search once they found that the ring was no longer buried with Caroline Abigail Whitley.”
Why not just ask the oddball? Then we wouldn’t have to be sitting here wondering who tossed the ring away as if it was nothing more than a piece of cheap costume jewelry. I do have the rest of my Honduras blend to get to, and the remainder of my Saturday night is still salvageable.
“What if someone tried to harness the ring’s supposed power, but he or she had no luck in doing so?” That was one theory we hadn’t considered, and one that had a lot of weight behind it. “It would stand to reason he or she wouldn’t want to be caught with the ring, so they had no choice but to get rid of the evidence and possibly shift the blame to someone else.”
You seem to be forgetting that your grandmother warned the Whitleys that someone would attempt to steal the ring from the cold dead finger of Caroline Abigail Whitley. My Rosemary would never have done such a thing if for one second she believed the sapphire couldn’t do what the legend claims.
“Another excellent point, Leo.”
I’m not used to all this praise, Raven. Are you still carrying that sapphire around in your pocket? Maybe the extra energy is messing with your state of mind.
“Nan wouldn’t have risked outing herself as a witch,” I said, glad that I had Leo to bounce ideas back and forth with. “She wanted that ring buried and hidden away from the world, which means we have to follow through with her wishes.”
I’m sure you’re going to argue with me on this one, but I have a very distinctive memory of the conversation your grandmother had with the old geezer.
Leo’s issue with his short-term memory loss wasn’t just short-term. With that said, I needed all the information I could get before consulting Rye and making some sort of decision regarding the ring.
“So, you do remember Nan warning Mr. Whitley about the ring.”
Let’s just say it’s coming back to me in bits and pieces. I recall your grandmother receiving a call from Mr. Whitley, but I didn’t pay much attention to the conversation. Honestly, there wasn’t much to it at the time…and that leads me to believe the ring isn’t as all powerful as good ol’ Arthur thinks it is.
That came as quite a relief, but I still needed to be sure that magic wasn’t about to be attempted by the hand of a human. After all, Nan wouldn’t have given him the warning to begin with unless there was some truth to the sapphire’s power.
How much more damage could a human do than you when it comes to…oops. Did I say that aloud? I think I’ve gone too long without smoking some of my premium organic catnip in my pipe.
“That’s what I’m worried about, Leo—the damage a human can cause when trying his or her hand at a spell.” I couldn’t contain my huff of frustration, so I reached into my skirt pocket for my cell phone. Before I could place a call to my mother—which, by the way, wasn’t my first choice—a knock came at the door. It was still too early for Liam to show up for our date, so I made my way across the hardwood floor wondering who it might be. “We need some answers, and Mom might know some of the Whitley family history. I know how hard it is for me to keep my secret, so I can only imagine the struggle the Whitleys had in keeping such a secret under wraps from their friends. Maybe Mr. Whitley let it slip to someone that he had set up a security system in the crypt. Honestly, it could have been anyone who tried to steal the ring.”
You’re missing the point, Raven. No one stole it for their own personal gain. Whoever desecrated the Whitley crypt ended up tossing the ring away into a basket of cheap costume jewelry. They had a reason for doing so.
I slipped my phone back into my pocket before opening the door to find that Ted was standing on the doorstep, his perpetual frown firmly in place. I’d come to know that he didn’t smile often—only when greeting friendly people on the street—so I no longer worried that the world was ending every time he frowned.
The world might very well be ending. You didn’t hear a raccoon talk like a gangster. That has a way of putting things into perspective that you’ll never understand.
“Hi, Ted. Were you able to talk with Ivan?”
“Yes.”
I sighed and took a step back, allowing Ted to enter.
“What did Ivan have to say, Ted?” I asked, closing the door behind him while anxiously waiting to hear his answer. I walked over to the overstuffed chair and took a seat, resting my elbows on my knees while wrapping my fingers around my coffee cup. The palm of my hand still tingled from my visit to the Whitleys, but I had a feeling that it had everything to do with discovering that the pricey ring harnessed energy of the earth. “Please tell me that Ivan saw who robbed the grave of Caroline Abigail Whitley.”
“Caroline Abigail Whitley.”
Ted remained standing, his long arms hanging straight down his side. I foolishly waited for him to continue explaining himself, but realized that he was waiting for another question.
“Yes, Caroline Abigail Whitley’s burial chamber,” I prodded Ted, scooting forward a bit more on my seat. “Who stole her remains and all of her jewelry?”
“Caroline Abigail Whitley.”
Oy vey. Maybe dealing with a raccoon from Brooklyn wasn’t so bad, after all.
“Ted, I know the Whitley family crypt was the target. I’m asking you who was responsible for robbing the grave.”
Maybe we should head back to the garage sale tomorrow. It’s the last day, you know. And if the sapphire ring was in a basket of costume jewelry, maybe Caroline Abigail Whitley’s bones are in a pile of Halloween decorations. Get it? A pile of bones?
I shot Leo an exasperated look, but he had just made another very good point. I shuddered at the thought of someone taking real bones and mixing them with plastic props. Unfortunately, I had a sinking feeling that this situation was about to get worse. Ted’s frown had deepened, and I’d come to accept that this time I should really worry about the world ending.
“Ted?”
“I don’t know how much clearer I can be, Ms. Raven.”
Cryptic Blend Page 9
