Cryptic Blend

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Cryptic Blend Page 11

by Kennedy Layne


  Maybe you should mention the talking raccoon. That might have the good ol’ sheriff thinking twice about filing a police report.

  “Here’s what we’re going to do,” Liam said, leaning forward and reaching for my hand. My heart began to beat fast against my chest at the decisive manner in which he spoke. What if he decided to open up a full-fledged criminal investigation? Mr. Whitley would definitely accuse me of taking the ring. Like Leo said, I even had it in my possession right this moment. “You’re headed to the library, and I’m going to drive over to the crypt. Cliff does a good job of maintaining the interior, but I’ll take a closer look at the stone coffin. We’ll meet at the pub in around an hour.”

  What just happened here? Raven, I have to be hearing things. This particular moment in time is making me believe I made up that talking raccoon. No, that can’t be. The masked bandit is real, he could teach Skippy a few ninja moves, and he definitely had a mobbed-up New York accent. Whatever this is…just make it stop.

  “The library?” I was completely perplexed as to why Liam thought the library could help my cause. “Is there a secret room dedicated to the Whitley’s lineage that I should know about?”

  Liam flashed a wide smile my way and squeezed my hand in reassurance.

  “As a matter of fact, there is.”

  Hold the frog legs with that meal! Did the good ol’ sheriff just agree to join our merry band of amateur sleuthing or is my Honduras stash tainted with a hallucinogenic drug that will have him stripping his clothes off any minute?

  Chapter Eleven

  You know, I’ve been here once before. It’s very unnerving being trapped inside with all those rows of books and the deafening silence that’s enforced by the sadistic overlord.

  “It’s a library, Leo. They call them librarians,” I muttered, still sitting inside my car while parked in front of a surprisingly small public building that was positioned in close proximity to the local treasurer’s office. As a matter of fact, Heidi’s new office space was smack dab in between them. “There’s only one vehicle parked out front. I guess I should have asked Liam the name of our local librarian. This tells me that I don’t read enough. They could probably use some community support, as well.”

  I hate to call you on that one, but you do a lot of required reading. It’s just not the kind that you enjoy. You have your reading assignments, and they all involve spells. Speaking of which, I’m sure you could have astroplaned into the library now that you’re confident you didn’t flub up the hex bag.

  “Is that your way of insinuating that you still think I messed up the spell?”

  I glanced in my rearview mirror to make sure no one was driving by so that I could open my car door and step out onto the street. The temperature was still a moderate seventy degrees, though it was bound to drop a couple of degrees once the sun set.

  I had a one-sided conversation with a talking raccoon who thought he was a wise guy. You tell me.

  I didn’t bother to answer Leo as I palmed the keys to my car and began to walk across the road, bypassing the cobblestone crosswalk. The sooner I got this over with, the better. I kept expecting Mr. Whitley or Ms. Stella to pop up out of nowhere and demand that I empty my pockets.

  The fact that Liam had so willingly put himself out there to help me find out who could have stolen the remains of Caroline Abigail Whitley, along with all the jewelry she’d been buried with, had come as quite a surprise and a welcome relief. I guess I could understand his inclination to help me, especially seeing as Mr. Whitley wasn’t too anxious to file a report.

  The moment Liam had driven away from the cottage, I’d sent a quick text to Heidi letting her know what was happening this evening. If all went well, I’d gather enough information that I might be able to pinpoint who else besides Mr. Whitley, Ms. Stella, and Clifford Meyers might have known about the ring’s legend.

  It’s not a myth or a legend if it’s true.

  Was Leo saying that a mere human could perform such a ritual with complete success? Could a sapphire that had been buried underneath the ground for three hundred and eighty years actually harness enough energy to provide eternal youth? I found that really hard to believe. Weren’t all sapphires buried in the ground before they were mined? Does that mean all sapphires are charged with energy?

  I’ve been thinking…are we in the wrong business? You do realize that selling the specifics of such a spell could fetch us millions. No, make that billions. Maybe we could make enough to buy the entire country of Honduras and make it the catnip capitol of the world! Raven, I never thought I’d say this in all my years…but you might be a genius!

  “I’m now thinking that you should have accompanied Liam to the cemetery,” I murmured, slowly closing the distance to the double glass doors of the library. I kept picturing an older woman at the counter with silver hair and matching eyeglasses, and then wondering why she wouldn’t have stopped by the tea shop. Didn’t all librarians drink hot tea? If Leo kept talking about selling the spell for eternal youth, I was going to need a lot more than a cup of tea or coffee to get me through this case. “I don’t like knowing Ivan is at the graveyard all the time, just sitting around in wait of souls to collect. What if he gets bored, sees Liam walking across the graveyard, and then…”

  You really need a harness for that imagination of yours.

  I barely held back a shudder at the thought of myself actually meeting a reaper. Hopefully, I didn’t come face to face with him anytime soon.

  How is it that having you under my wing has produced spirits, ghouls, and reapers? My Rosemary lived in this town for a very long time, but she minded her own business and stuck to her so-called holistic herbal tea business. You should try doing that sometime. Oh, wait. You can’t, because you’re some type of magnet for supernatural train wrecks.

  “Complain all you want, but you love me.” I flashed a smile before opening the glass door on the right-hand side of the double entrance.

  You should have come with a warning manual and the proper PPE (Personal Protective Equipment).

  I didn’t bother to reply as I entered the library, immediately noticing the cooler temperature inside the building. In my previous life—you know, the one where I had been an ordinary woman living a very mundane life in New York City—I had actually been a pretty avid reader, enjoying anything from romance novels to the latest thrillers in paperback.

  Nowadays?

  All I did was comb through the family grimoire and various books on the history and ecology of our supernatural ways, because how else was I supposed to learn all the enchantments and incantations? Some of the special ones could even save lives, preventing certain individuals from being personally introduced to Ivan’s home game of stud poker. Wasn’t it my civic duty as a witch to help others if I had the ability to do so?

  I don’t know if I need to get my hearing checked or if you are actually starting to believe your own malarkey.

  I guess Leo was accompanying me inside the library and not going to the cemetery to watch over Liam. Once my gaze landed on the individual behind the desk, I believed Leo might have made the wiser choice.

  What. Is. That?

  “Um, excuse me?”

  The reason for Leo’s disbelief and my hesitancy was due to the individual standing behind the counter. Maybe because Ted had been created from the wax figure of Lurch from “The Addams Family”. That might be why the show was lodged into the back of my mind, but I was pretty sure I was looking at Cousin Itt from that same show.

  Could it be a juvenile Sasquatch?

  Leo had a point, given that the individual had his or her back toward us, but the long brown hair went well past the counter. I couldn’t tell where it ended.

  Who knew Bigfoot was living in Paramour Bay?

  “May I help you?”

  Sweet angel of mercy, it’s actually Darth Vader…with the hairy head of a yeti!

  “Yes,” I replied after clearing my throat a couple of times. I thought Leo had summed up
the description rather well, but the man who had turned to address me looked like any other resident from the front. Sure, the man’s hair was long and his voice was rather deep and raspy, but he had kind eyes that were rather comforting. “I was hoping to read through some materials on the founders of Paramour Bay. Liam said that the library had a special room dedicated to the subject.”

  Comforting? I’d break out the silver daggers, if I were you. You know, I saw a werewolf drinking a Pina Colada at Trader Vic’s. His hair was amazingly perfect. Cousin Itt could very well be one with that amount of hair. Then again, he is cleanshaven. Does he have an electric razor somewhere behind the counter to keep up with the growth?

  Werewolves?

  I did my best not to take a step back from the counter now that I’d rested my hands on the hard surface. It wouldn’t have been polite to have this man sense I was afraid he’d bare fangs or whatever it was that werewolves did right before they attacked their prey. So much for Leo’s words of wisdom that werewolves, vampires, and such didn’t exist.

  I was being sarcastic at the time. You are a witch who has seen ghosts. You’re telling me that you didn’t blink an eyelash that a reaper was stationed out at the cemetery, yet you’re surprised there are werewolves in the library? You really do have issues that I can’t fix.

  “How is Liam doing?” the friendly man said, adjusting his rimless glasses to get a better look at me. It was hard to guess his age, because he had that kind of face that people might predict anywhere from thirty to fifty. Seriously, it would have been kind of freaky if he hadn’t had such kind eyes. “I’ve been meaning to stop by the station and drop off the latest Stephen King novel that he’s been waiting for, but seeing as you’re here…I might as well have you give it to him, Ms. Marigold.”

  Let me first say that everyone in town called Liam by his first name. He wasn’t big on formality, because a lot of the residents considered each other family. The librarian in front of me was the perfect example of what I was referring to.

  Now let me share my reaction to the fact that a perfect stranger recognized me for the second time today—I was weirded out.

  Granted, the Marigold women all had long black hair, emerald green eyes, and rather shapely figures. We were somewhat easy to recognize as one another’s relative, but it was still freaky to have two strangers speak to me with such familiarity.

  Welcome to Paramour Bay.

  “I can definitely take Liam the book he’s been waiting for,” I replied with a small smile, having already known of Liam’s reading obsession with Stephen King. There had been nights that we had talked into the wee hours of the morning, covering topics from favorite hobbies to our favorite food. I sure hoped Ivan didn’t come in between Liam and his next book. “I seem to be at a disadvantage, though. You know my name, but…”

  If he says his name is Yeti or Cousin Itt…I’m out of here.

  “Oh, silly me. I’m Harry,” he said, reaching his long arm over the counter to shake my hand. His grip was firm and enthusiastic, but somehow his long hair didn’t move. It was like it was its own shroud. “I’ll have to thank Liam for sending you my way. We rarely get locals in here wanting to know all about the founders of our great town. Come with me, and I’ll show you everything you need to know about the Whitleys. It’s a shame, really, how most of the family has left the area with the exception of Arthur, Cliff, and Elsie. Of course, Arthur is the only one who retains the family name due to birthright. There is also a family tree painted on one of the back walls that you might find very interesting. It sure keeps tracks of all the familial branches.”

  His parents named him Harry. They didn’t think that one through, did they?

  I’d barely heard a word Harry had said after he’d mentioned Elsie’s name. I mean, I personally knew an Elsie. The older woman was part of the infamous duo—Elsie and Wilma—who came into the tea shop once a week. They were best friends, well into their seventies, who had standing appointments at the salon every Monday. Never once had anyone ever mentioned that Elsie was a Whitley family member.

  Don’t look at me. I can see your eyebrow arching in accusation, but I for one didn’t see this one coming. For once, my short-term memory is not to blame. You realize this is cause for celebration, right? I’m so glad I hit the reorder button on the Honduras batch of premium organic catnip before we left the house. You should really remember to close your browser when you’re done using the computer. It might save you some money on your PayPal account.

  “Elsie?” I asked Harry a bit skeptically as he came around the island and began to lead me toward the back of the library. “Elsie Cranston?”

  I’d like to point out that I find it hard to believe an elderly woman would have stolen the remains of the dead, looted the jewelry off the bones of a skeleton, and then decided to toss a priceless sapphire ring into a basket of cheap costume jewelry. One, she doesn’t have nearly the strength to move the lid off of a stone coffin. Two, she’d have to be pretty greedy and morally bereft to pillage the skeleton of a dead relative. Three, no one in their right mind would toss away tens of thousands of dollars based on the notion of some family ghost story.

  I agreed with Leo on points one and two, but three? If Elsie thought she was protecting humankind by getting rid of a sapphire that harvested energy for immortality, she wouldn’t hesitate for a moment to throw it away. She just wasn’t the materialistic type to care about expensive jewelry.

  “Isn’t Ms. Elsie just a dear?” Harry said, his Darth Vader voice somehow sounding sincere. As he walked in front of me, I realized that his hair was longer than mine. Leo’s mention of werewolves had me staying a step back, just in case I needed to harvest enough energy in the palm of my hand to protect myself. “We can always count on her for a large donation every year.”

  The Yeti has a dark side, Raven. He’s luring you in for your community pledge of support. Don’t fall for it!

  Before moving to Paramour Bay, I had been down on my luck and three months behind on my rent. Sure, the tea shop brought in modest revenue, but no one in their right mind would think I had any real amount of money.

  “And here we are,” Harry exclaimed excitedly, stepping to the side once we reached a separate room where there truly was a hand-painted tree on the back wall with names written in calligraphy on the branches. “Isn’t this room just splendid? I’ll leave you to your research, but I’ll be up front should you need anything else.”

  Harry’s large frame disappeared behind me, leaving me on my own in a vast pool of information regarding the Whitleys.

  I know that look.

  “What look?” I murmured after looking over my shoulder to make sure that Harry really had gone back up front.

  It’s the look I’ve designated as Emergency Catnip is Warranted. You’re about to make another one of those decisions that could cost us our lives.

  How was paying a visit to Elsie going to cost us our lives? She might very well have details that could solve this entire case for us, and I wasn’t going to let one more minute pass that could potentially put Liam in harm’s way.

  Look on the bright side. Liam could always play Ivan a hand of poker in exchange for his soul. He’d have a better than average chance of winning, considering his experience.

  Needless to say, Leo’s comment had me turning on my heel. With a quick wave to Harry and a promise to be back soon, I was out the front door before he could utter a word and ask about my sudden departure.

  It’s a wonder I don’t have whiplash.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Liam’s not picking up his phone.” I practically gnawed my bottom lip with worry as I walked up the small sidewalk that would land me straight on Elsie’s front doorstep. “Leo, go make sure he’s okay.”

  Oh, I get it. The good ol’ sheriff doesn’t answer his phone, so now you’re all worried Ivan has escorted his soul across the finish line. I engage in a one-sided conversation with a talking raccoon and you chalk it up to ingesting too much c
atnip. I see whose side you’re on. I should let that flea-infested rabid masked bandit eat your little sheriff boy.

  “This is serious, Leo. What if whoever desecrated the crypt went back to the scene of the crime? Liam might have been ambushed.”

  And that’s a bad thing for me, how?

  The colorful flowers planted along both sides of the sidewalk didn’t brighten my mood any. The bumblebees were still hopping from one floral delight to another without a care in the world, regardless that early evening had set in and the sun would be setting in under thirty minutes. I found myself envious of the yellow and black winged insects, because all I could imagine right now was Liam’s soul being ripped out of his body by a grim reaper.

  Okay, that’s just sad and a little bit morbid. It’s got to be because you watched too many horror movies as a kid. Your mother did a terrible job of raising you. I can’t take your whining anymore. I’ll go to the graveyard to check on the good ol’ sheriff. You owe me, though. If I see another talking raccoon, I’m going to run up a catnip bill you won’t believe on your PayPal account.

  This certainly wasn’t how I thought my Saturday evening would be spent, but I was grateful when Leo took pity on me and agreed to check on Liam. After my conversation with Elsie, I might just head back to the cottage in search of a spell that could solve this entire case.

  I’d given it some thought, and whatever spell I came across that could be useful would have to be one that didn’t siphon any energy from the sapphire ring. It was entirely possible that the energy harvested inside the expensive gem was unstable. The last thing I needed was eternal youth while everyone else grew old and died around me.

  Leo might have been right—my thoughts had become rather sullen lately.

  I didn’t waste time knocking on the door, going over in my mind what I needed to say so that it didn’t sound as if I’d lost my marbles. Elsie might be getting up there in age, but she was still sharp as a tack.

 

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