You should have seen what a hero that grey stick of wax turned out to be, Raven. He positioned himself directly in between our resident warlock and the good ol’ sheriff. It was as if he were willing to sacrifice his life. Wait just a toad’s ribbit. Does Ted even have a soul to lose? Now that’s a question for Ivan, if I can ever get an invite to that super-secret poker game. You know, I’m actually proud of that Crayola.
Leo had been rambling on and on ever since he’d spilled the beans about what had gone down at the cemetery. I’d driven past the police station directly across from the tea shop, and Liam’s vehicle hadn’t been parked out front. I could only assume that he was still out at the graveyard with Rye.
“I can’t believe you didn’t stay to find out if Rye was able to talk himself out of being arrested,” I exclaimed with exasperation, my headlights finally casting their beams over Liam’s black F-150 that was still parked directly in front of the wrought iron gates to the cemetery. I breathed a sigh of relief when I didn’t spot anyone wearing a set of cuffs or someone sitting in the back of the truck. It meant that Liam, Rye, and Ted were still inside the crypt. “Come on. Let’s go see if Ted was able to somehow diffuse the situation.”
Come with me. Spy on the good ol’ sheriff. Report back. Yada, yada, yada. I wish you’d make up your mind already. You’ve got more moods than Dr. Jekyll.
It didn’t take me long to shut off my headlights, turn off the engine, and step out of the car. Leo did his disappearance and reappearance, vanishing from the passenger seat and materializing by my side walking toward the gate. He would no doubt make himself invisible by the time we closed in on the crypt, but I was grateful for his presence now.
Even though I’d been in the same place last night and nothing bad had happened, walking through a graveyard with nothing but moonlight to guide my way was rather unsettling, even for me being a witch.
“Hold on a second.” I turned back toward the car, heading straight for the hatchback of the Corolla. I reached inside, trying to find what I was searching for in the moonlight. I remembered full well that Heidi had thrown the flashlight back there when we’d gotten in the car last night. Sure enough, it was right where it had landed with a thud. “Okay. Let’s walk to the back of the graveyard—quickly. Now that I know for a fact that a reaper roams the grounds, this place gives me the heebie-jeebies.”
The soft moonlight was shining down onto the old tombstones, but at least the patchy fog from last night had dissipated. The deafening silence didn’t help lighten the ambiance, though, and I strained to hear but one cricket for any sign of life.
Really? You want some sign of life in a graveyard? Probably not your best hunting ground for that, my dear.
“Stop it,” I reprimanded, tightening my grip on the metal end of the flashlight. I made sure to carry it in my left hand so that I had my right available to harness energy if we were attacked. Of course, such a thing would have virtually no effect on a ghoul. “You know what I mean. It’s creepy out here, and I can’t help but wonder if Caroline Abigail Whitley’s spirit left the grounds of the cemetery or we’re going to come across her merrily strolling through the tombstones.”
I’m sure the resident warlock has the answer to that, considering he was the one who recovered her remains. I mean, what is his major malfunction anyway? Who in their right mind would purposefully open a portal to the afterlife? And why hadn’t he been upfront about discovering her remains?
“I’m assuming that he wants the same answers regarding his ancestors as the council did all those years ago before Aunt Rowena sent him here,” I conjectured, grateful that Leo was by my side to keep my imagination from running wild beyond the realm of reason. I kept expecting a hand to pop up from the ground and grab my ankle at any moment. “Can you imagine not knowing who your parents were or how you came into your magic? It must be hard for him to—”
How ya doin’?
I might have allowed a small squeak to escape my throat at the sudden appearance of a…talking raccoon. Leo certainly hadn’t been the one to speak with that kind of accent.
Raven?
Now that time I’d heard Leo’s concerned tone loud and clear, and I almost expected to feel his sharp claws dig into my leg through the material of my skirt.
Of course, by this time, both Leo and I had stopped dead in our tracks.
We were probably halfway through the graveyard to where the crypts were located in the back, but it wasn’t like we could go over the masked critter. And who knew what the twitchy animal would do if we tried to walk around him. He was currently sitting back on his haunches, holding what looked to be a half-eaten green apple in his grubby little hands.
Are you seeing and hearing this, Raven?
The raccoon was switching his gaze back and forth between me and Leo, as if he were finding our responses quite entertaining. I wish I could say the same, but I was pretty confident I’d heard that specific New York accent Leo had mentioned, and I’d come to the conclusion that Leo hadn’t hallucinated anything about this critter.
You can hear him, can’t you? See? I wasn’t hallucinating, Raven! Isn’t that great news? That garbage eater is definitely a front for a mafia smuggling operation, and you need to zap him right between those beady little eyes right this second! Now would be good! What are you waiting for?
Whoa, hold up there, Frank. The raccoon tossed the half-eaten green apple to the side and sidled up closer to us after twitching his nose, instantly causing Leo and me to take a step back in unison. I’m pretty sure Leo did that flickering thing where he disappeared only to materialize again in under one point three seconds. There’s no need to be zapping anyone, buddy. You’re hurtin’ my feelings, run’n away like a scared bunny every time you see me. You’z start’n to give me a complex while I’m only try’n to help you.
“Leo, I think Elsie did slip something bad into my tea,” I whispered in horror, wondering if I shouldn’t take Leo’s advice and zap the raccoon bald right this minute. We’d discussed rabies a time or two when Leo got into altercations with Skippy, but this was unlike anything I’d ever encountered before. This was a dire situation which had me actually contemplating if Leo was right about the entire zombie apocalypse. “Wait a second. Who is Frank?”
Who is Frank? He’s standing right next to you. Just look at ’em, doll. The raccoon shook his head in dismay. I’ve never seen anything like it before in my life. He could literally belong to Frankenstein. I mean, Rye warned me, but who can take that guy seriously?
Rye? Oh, this explained so much.
My dear Heidi is an actual genius. She’s the one who called it—this garbage eating masked bandit here is actually a familiar. You realize that Skippy might have to be relegated to second place as my nemesis? I mean, who in Hades calls forth a familiar who sifts through garbage and has ties to organized crime syndicates? Our resident warlock is more messed up than I thought.
I’ve got no beef with you, Frank. I’m just here to facilitate an outcome, iffin’ you’z know what I mean.
A quick glance around the graveyard revealed that no one was near, so I stepped a bit closer in order to keep my voice low. The last thing I needed was for Liam to stumble upon me talking to a raccoon. He’d really think I’d completely lost it, and then he’d call the men in the white jackets.
Come back here! Are you crazy? That thing could have rabies, for all we know!
“What’s your name?” I began, keeping my tone a whisper. “And then please quickly catch us up to speed on what’s going on inside the crypt.”
Are you serious, Raven? You’re asking this garbage eater for information? Where did I go wrong in your lessons?
“Leo, we both know that he is Rye’s familiar,” I explained, not really having the time to do so when the two men could come upon us at any time. I turned back to address the raccoon. “Now, what is your name?”
Joey Butter Fingers, at your service.
Raven, I respectfully submit my resignation.
“Hush,�
� I admonished Leo, not wanting to alienate Joey when it was clear he’d been trying to help Leo all along. “Let’s hear him out.”
Aren’t you just a doll, Ms. Marigold? Don’t you’z worry one bit. Rusty Rye has everything under control, although he does give this old ticker of mine a stutter, not fors nuthin’. Get this. He found the remains of that dead lady next to the cobblestone wall behind the crypt. What are the odds? Anyway, he was putting that rattling old skeleton back where it belonged when that do-gooder of a sheriff waltzed right into the crypt as if he owned the place.
It was really good to know that Rye had been upfront with me all along. Of course, Liam didn’t know that, which was why it was so important I reach the crypt before the situation got out of hand.
Are you saying that you’ll need my resignation in writing? I guess I can have Ted jot down a few lines for me. I’ll just dip my paw in ink and slap it down on the paper. Signed, sealed, and delivered.
“Leo, you can’t quit,” I muttered, once more scanning our surroundings. It was still eerily quiet, almost as if the crickets and the birds didn’t want to spend time with the dead. “It doesn’t work that way. Anyway, this is good news. You didn’t hallucinate, Rye was telling us the truth all along, and it’s looking more and more like someone else is responsible for the grave robbing of the Whitley crypt.”
One, I liked it better when this garbage eater was a hallucination. Two, I blame the resident warlock completely for bringing—I can’t even bring myself to say that ridiculous name—this mobbed-up masked bandit to Paramour Bay, and what exactly makes you think the séance didn’t have something to do with this entire mess? Ivan has already fessed up that Caroline Abigail Whitley is roaming this graveyard.
Leo certainly had a way of slightly altering every fact I stated, but I didn’t have to worry about setting him straight. Joey Butter Fingers had my back. Although, all things considered, that probably wasn’t the best idea.
That she most definitely was, Frank. But that old biddy just crossed over for a bit to see what happened to her bag of bones. I just had a chat with my poker buddy, Ivan the Reaper. She’s been safely back in the afterlife since Friday night, with the promise that her ring will be returned to its rightful place. That’s why you’re here, right?
Did you hear that, Raven? This garbage eater plays cards with Ivan. He spoke with his good pal, Ivan. Tell me, nemesis…does the death dweller extend an invitation to his weekly poker game to just anyone or do you have to be a loser first?
Leo had completely made this situation personal, but we still had a mystery to solve. Someone had robbed the grave of Caroline Abigail Whitley, somehow lost the magical ring at a garage sale, and then tried to bring back her remains before anyone was the wiser. Whoever he or she was…the guilty individual had no idea that I was now in possession of the prized gem or that Rye had discovered the hidden remains of Caroline Abigail Whitley.
You know about our games, Frank? I’ll make it worth your while if you’z wanna work the game. How’s your dealing seconds? We’z could clean up. You and that local squirrel gang have some type of ongoing turf battle, right? Tell you what, Frank. I’ll find out where that bushy-tailed rat is holed up in exchange for you’z helping me bustin’ this game out. How’s that sound? You can be Franky Green Eyes.
“Listen, the two of you obviously need to work out your issues, but now isn’t the time.” I couldn’t believe that I was standing in the middle of a graveyard on a moonlit night playing referee between two half-baked familiars who just happened to be an overweight cat and a raccoon from Brooklyn. “I need to make sure that Liam doesn’t suspect anything in regard to the supernatural realm.”
Oh, that’s already been taken care of, Ms. Marigold. You’z bodyguard did an amazin’ job of coverin’ for Rusty Rye.
It pains me to show even a minuscule hint of curiosity, but why do you call the resident warlock by that name?
Rusty Rye? Have you seen that warlock cast a spell? It’s like asking the Hulk to tiptoe through a china shop. Ain’t gonna happen. He’s so rusty when it comes to castn’ magic, he does his best to avoid it. It’s why I’m not hangn’ around much anymore. Don’t need to be, and I got myself a steady girl in the city. Now, if you tell me that we’z could work that game, I can see to it that I make it back to town at least once a week while we’z bust those guys out. What da say, Frank?
Leo had still been contemplating an answer to the familiar who now topped his list of nemeses when I decided to leave them to their own devices. I had to reach Liam and reassure myself that all was the same as when we’d left the cottage.
Walking across the graveyard by myself had me in a very vulnerable pinch, so I could only imagine what I looked like quickly making my way to the back of the cemetery. My skirt was probably billowing behind me, and anyone driving past might suspect someone was chasing me. Either that or they might actually believe they saw a ghost running through the graveyard under the light of the full moon.
I hadn’t realized I’d been holding my breath as I ran until my chest began to hurt, but by that time something had caught my attention. Sure enough, there was a light shining from within the Whitley family crypt.
It was a relief to know that Liam, Rye, and Ted were still inside. The fact that Liam hadn’t immediately carted Rye off to jail told me that I would undoubtedly owe Ted a very, very big favor that I would happily repay, if possible.
“Whoa, there,” Liam said with a chuckle, somehow stepping right in front of me to prevent my fall when I’d stepped into a divot. “What are you doing out here? I thought you were going to go to the library and then meet me at the pub for dinner.”
I couldn’t very well tell Liam that Leo had come to fetch me when things had gone south inside the crypt, so I feigned catching my breath. He didn’t release me until I’d nodded that I was okay and not about to keel over from running a marathon across the graveyard.
“I was at the library, and I also met a nice man named Harry who showed me the room designated to honor the founders of Paramour Bay.” I saw movement coming from inside the crypt, and sure enough Rye walked out with a flashlight. Ted was by his side. It seemed a good time to fill all of them in now that I’d confirmed Rye wasn’t in handcuffs. Besides, it wasn’t like I could let on that I knew Rye had tried to replace Caroline Abigail Whitley back into her burial chamber. “I left, though, when Harry told me that Elsie Cranston was a Whitley. Can you believe that one? I thought it best to talk to her immediately to see if she knew anything about who might be responsible for stealing Caroline Abigail’s remains out of the crypt. Rye and Ted, what are the two of you doing here?”
It seemed the right thing to ask, given the circumstances.
“It’s the most bizarre coincidence, but Rye said he saw someone trying to jump the cobblestone wall,” Liam shared, shutting off his flashlight now that the moonlight was casting enough illumination that we didn’t need the artificial beams. “Rye checked it out, and found the remains of an old skeleton.”
“I should have immediately called Liam or Eileen, but I’d overheard at the diner that Liam called Cliff this morning about a possible break-in at the family crypt.” Rye gave a sheepish shrug, pulling off the story with ease. A little too easily for my liking. “I couldn’t stand knowing that someone had desecrated one of the founders’ graves, so I thought I’d put back the remains of Mrs. Whitley and then call the station first thing tomorrow morning. I guess it wasn’t the smartest move.”
“You’re a good man, Rye.” Liam then gestured toward Ted with a fond smile. “I was ready to take Rye away in handcuffs when Ted saw all the commotion. If he hadn’t been here visiting your grandmother’s grave, he never would have witnessed what had taken place and been able to verify Rye’s story.”
I’m sure I blinked twice at the cover story of Ted visiting Nan’s grave when he’d no doubt showed up to the graveyard to play poker with Ivan. Thankfully, Liam’s attention had been on the two men.
“I’ll
touch base with Cliff tonight. I saw him out front of the funeral home changing the sign when I was driving by, so he’s probably still there. A crime has definitely been committed, and I’m going to have to write up a report.” Liam gave me what appeared to be an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry for having to postpone another dinner, Raven.”
What Liam wasn’t saying was that he was apologizing for having to make an official crime report and potentially leaking the Whitley family myth regarding the ring. He thought Rye and Ted didn’t know about the sapphire ring, and that was fine by me. Liam could also be apologizing for cancelling our dinner plans once again, but either way this situation worked toward my advantage. It would give me an excuse to go speak with Mr. Whitley.
If Liam saw Mr. Meyers at the funeral home, it was highly doubtful he was the one responsible for attempting to bring back Caroline Abigail Whitley’s remains. I had been with Elsie, so that left only two people—Arthur Whitley or Stella Jenkins.
I’m gone for four minutes negotiating with that mafia don of a raccoon, and you solve the mystery? No, I don’t believe it. Besides, the old geezer all but accused you of stealing the ring. He also wouldn’t have tossed it into a basket of cheap costume jewelry. Oh, and you should know that the garbage eater and I came to an agreement. It was quite cathartic. He’d make a good therapist. And given that we’re both familiars to inept magical casters, it’s in our best interest to stick together. Skippy is safely in the number one spot on my nemesis list.
“Rye and Ted, will the two of you come by the station tomorrow to give a statement?” Liam asked, allowing time for both men to slowly nod in agreement. Ted was staring at me, almost as if he were asking for my permission, but he’d followed Rye’s lead. “Great. I appreciate it. I’ll go ahead and give Cliff a call. I’m sure he has something in the family records that might indicate what items of value had been buried with the remains of Caroline Abigail Whitley. We’ll go from there if we find anything missing, and also do another search of the grounds come morning during the daylight hours. Who knows? Someone could have changed their mind about committing such a horrible act, and he or she tried to make amends.”
Cryptic Blend Page 13
