Who’s left on your suspect list?
Rye and Ted bid their goodbyes, with Rye heading toward the back entrance of the graveyard while Ted began to walk in the direction of my vehicle. Rye had no doubt heard Leo’s statement regarding the pact he and Joey had come to, but we’d have to deal with that another day. Thinking back to our phone call this afternoon, Rye had tried to talk to me about the raccoon.
Anyway, we’d ruled out everyone on the list except for Arthur and Stella, but I couldn’t understand why either one of them would believe I was the one who robbed the Whitley family crypt.
Which is why I don’t think the old geezer or that old bat had anything to do with the grave robbing. I know this is out of left field, but do you think Ivan could have staged all of this in his quest to seek immortality? Granted, he’s a reaper. But we should consider that the sapphire ring could bring life to a spirit. After all, it harnesses enough energy to provide eternal youth. That’s quite some feat, wouldn’t you say?
“Ted, I’ll drive you home.” I called out the offer, wanting to reach Arthur Whitley before he heard about the skeletal remains being returned from someone else. I highly doubt he’d been able to fix the video camera he’d had installed inside the crypt given all the activity here these past two days. “Liam, do you need anything from me?”
The good ol’ sheriff needs nothing. I say we leave him here to take his chances with Ivan.
“That depends,” Liam said, looking over my shoulder as he watched Ted wave his appreciation at my proposal to drive him home. “Did Elsie divulge anything about the Whitley family and who might have known about the sapphire ring? I honestly didn’t know she was any relation to the Whitley family, either. I find that very odd.”
Come to think of it, I don’t recall anyone mentioning Elsie’s relation to the Whitley family, either. Granted, I have some major memory issues, but your sheriff is relatively young and sharp when he wants to be. Hmmm. I wonder if he’s been digging into my premium organic catnip when I wasn’t looking.
“Harry seemed to think it was common knowledge. Anyway, she didn’t have much to say other than she thinks Mr. Whitley is an old codger who doesn’t know what to do in his old age.”
We are talking about the same old geezer who spends his hours watching the security feed to a crypt in a graveyard, aren’t we? I’ve heard about conspiracy theorists, but I’ve never met one of those nuts in person before.
Liam chuckled, though I didn’t miss the quick glance he gave the crypt. He couldn’t hide his concern over someone going as far as to desecrate a long-standing family burial chamber for some old legend about eternal youth. It was also going to be very hard to explain all of this to Mayor Sanders, who liked to be kept up-to-date on anything unusual happening in his town.
Now there’s a man we can add to the suspect list. You said it yourself—the man knows every little nuance of this town.
Leo’s suggestion did give me pause, but something was telling me the answer rested with Mr. Whitley. If I’m being truthful, my assumption had more to do with the warmth of my hand whenever I thought of Mr. Whitley than it did with anything else.
There was only one thing left to do.
Oh, trust me when I say there’s never only one thing left to do.
“Liam, I think it’s only right that I let Mr. Whitley know what happened here tonight,” I said, quickly laying a hand on his arm so that he wouldn’t have time to argue. “I realize that Mr. Meyers is the one who tends to the family crypt, but Mr. Whitley has a right to know that the remains of his great-great-great-great grandmother have been returned to their rightful place.”
See? That’s what I’m talking about. You always select the choice that puts our lives in danger. If you truly believe that Arthur was duping us all along, and that he is the guilty party and somehow accidentally lost the sapphire ring with it ending up in a fifty-cent basket of costume jewelry at the annual garage sale, then we’d be complete nut jobs to want to go back to his residence. See how easy it is to make sense like a normal person? You really should give it a try once in a while.
“I don’t like the idea of you showing up on the man’s doorstep in the middle of the night all alone. He all but accused you of being the one who stole the sapphire ring and removing a skeleton from this graveyard.” Liam had been shaking his head from the first word that had passed his lips, but he’d known me long enough that I wasn’t going to change my mind. “Take Ted with you. I don’t want you going out there alone, and I want you to call me immediately if he says or does anything that has you feeling threatened or scared. Agreed?”
Agree with the good ol’ sheriff, and then tell him that the old geezer offered you a cookie. Strangers shouldn’t offer other people cookies. If they do, it’s probably because they’ve poisoned those delicious treats. Oh, wait just a reaper’s scythe! You don’t think the old geezer knew all along that you had the ring and was trying to kill you for it, do you? It’s a good thing you didn’t ingest that gingerbread cookie.
“Agreed,” I replied softly, leaning up and placing a gentle kiss on his cheek. Leo’s flair for the dramatic had somehow gone up a notch. I hadn’t thought that was possible. “And you should know that it’s only around seven-thirty on a Saturday night. Ted and I might stumble upon Mr. Whitley and Ms. Stella having a dance party out at their place. You never know.”
The image of that old geezer and old bat with the resting b—
I might have let a bit of energy slip from my fingers in the direction of Leo, but it was nothing more than what one would receive from a staticy blanket. Liam had been looking down at his phone, allowing me to get away with the small indiscretion.
Not nice, Raven. You also hit my tail in the same place as last time. It can’t sustain any more damage, you know. It could fall off. Anyway, that image of those two are just as bad as your mother and Beetle christening the back seat of his VW. There’s not enough bleach in the world to wipe away that visual disaster.
“Please keep your phone on you,” Liam requested, holding up his own in kind. “I’ll call you the minute I’m finished up.”
“Will do,” I promised him with a small smile before turning and making sure I didn’t step in that divot that almost had me falling to the ground earlier. “Good luck with Mr. Meyers.”
Good luck with the oddball? Seriously? We’re the ones going to need all the luck, Raven. We’re about to go toe to toe with the evil doppelgängers of Hansel and Gretel, who have probably taken over the gingerbread house and want to stuff you in their oven. I’m not the size of a turkey, Raven. Possibly a small chicken, maybe, but not a turkey.
Chapter Fourteen
I thought we were supposed to bring Ted along as a sacrificial lamb?
“We’re not going to sacrifice Ted, Leo.” I was unable to keep the exasperation from my voice. We’d once again found ourselves in the driveway of the prestigious waterfront home of Arthur Whitley. There was a good chance he was home by himself, given that Ms. Stella didn’t live on the premises. Elsie had made it sound as if the woman lived in Heidi’s neighborhood. “I assured Liam that I’d bring Ted along, but that was when I was supposed to give him a ride home. He must have walked to the cottage, because he was nowhere near the front of the cemetery when we walked to the car. It’s almost eight o’clock, and I don’t want to waste any more time digging up Ted. For all we know, Mr. Whitley goes to sleep by nine.”
That candlestick is probably sitting at a card table with Ivan and who knows who else, raking in all the chips. Just so you know, my Friday night next week is booked. I’ll be scouring the graveyard grounds for their hidden poker lair. It’s got to be there somewhere. I can’t let that grifter raccoon bust out that game before I get some action.
I let Leo ramble on about poker and the fact that he hadn’t been given a personal invitation from Ivan as I continued to scan the house and the surrounding area. There wasn’t one light on in Mr. Whitley’s windows to indicate that anyone was home, but I co
uldn’t imagine Mr. Whitley being out on the town. He was probably at the back of the house, watching television or reading a book.
Or the old geezer is planning what he’d like to do with his immortality once he gets ahold of that sapphire ring you’re still lugging around. Seriously, Raven. We should have left it at home in the safety of the coffee table.
“I feel better having it on my person,” I whispered, trying to gather enough courage to open the car door. The palm of my hand had begun to tingle, and it wasn’t due to the keys I’d tucked in my fist. At least the warmth hadn’t reached a dangerous point. “Between the ring’s energy and that of the earth, it would only take a millisecond for me to pull the current I’d need to protect us should we find ourselves under attack.”
Then why is it taking you so long to get out of this pile of junk you love so much? Oh, that’s right. Because somewhere in that rattled brain of yours is a random cell of common sense still screaming for its life. You must have gotten it from your grandmother, because you certainly didn’t get it from your mother.
When Leo put things in perspective like that, it was very hard to argue with him.
“You’re right, Leo,” I exclaimed with a bit of relief, though I did feel the need to tack on my reason for such an agreement. “Not about the common sense part, but because there’s nothing here for me to be afraid of. I can protect us using the energy available from the earth, with the added boost from the sapphire if I need it. I’ve got this covered. Let’s go.”
I was out of the car and tucking my keys in my free pocket before Leo was able to vanish from the front passenger seat.
It always makes me leery when you become overly confident. Do you recall the last time you were this assertive? Let me refresh your memory. It was last night. You were dressed all in black like some crazy grave robber. We discovered an empty crypt, an old myth written in an ancient book, and possibly an irrational old geezer who seeks eternal youth. Now do you understand why I need my premium organic catnip every night?
I didn’t even bother to reply, seeing as I was glaring at Leo through the driver’s side window and gesturing rather wildly that he needed to get out of the vehicle right this second. He understood exactly what I meant, and I didn’t miss the slight roll of his left bulging eye at my impatience.
What if we were wrong? What if it wasn’t Mr. Whitley who sought immortality? I wasn’t saying that men didn’t seek eternal youth, but women were more likely to desire something so unattainable.
What if Ms. Stella was the culprit we were looking for?
You’re forgetting that the overly stern housekeeper with that facial expression I shall not name was with the old geezer the night they covered up the crime for whoever really did rob Caroline Abigail Whitley’s grave. Wouldn’t it be safer to assume that they’re in it together? Ohhhh, that could be a plotline for a Detective Columbo movie of the week! A housekeeper falls in love with her employer, they long to live out their years of eternity as their younger selves, and then they go around town killing everyone who knows their secret! Raven, do you have a pen? We need to jot this stuff down. Hollywood would kill for new material like this. Sweet angel of mercy, everyone knows they haven’t found anything original lately.
“We are not going into the movie business, Leo. I guess we should be thankful for the small things, though, given that I’m in possession of the ring,” I countered, taking a step toward the front entrance of the house. I could sense Leo by my side as we walked up the driveway and then onto the small sidewalk. “No one can try and cast the spell for eternal youth without it, and Caroline Abigail Whitley’s remains were put back where they belong. It was nice of Ivan to escort her back to the other side so quickly. Whoever the culprit was must have had a change of heart, which plays into our favor.”
So, remind me why we’re here again if the danger has passed?
“Because we need to ensure that the person or persons aren’t going to try to do something like this again,” I explained, really uncomfortable with the fact that such a family legacy existed. A story like that could cause an individual to act without thinking things all the way through. “Heidi found a spell that could make someone forget a specific detail. It only requires a bit of energy instead of a material component, so I should be able to cast it without the subject being any the wiser.”
Interesting. I guess he, she, or they could have simply lost the ring. Maybe a helpful bystander saw the sapphire ring on the ground next to Karen Finley’s table, and said passerby stuffed it into the basket thinking they were helping a neighbor tidy things up. It would make more sense if that was why someone had tried to break into Monty’s garage, believing he was the one to find the sapphire ring amongst his sale items.
“That is a pretty darn good theory, Leo,” I surmised, easily picturing that scenario happening in such a town as Paramour Bay. “What if whoever desecrated the crypt did so in broad daylight while the—”
It was a good thing that Leo had remained invisible from the time he’d gotten out of the car, because he no doubt would have done his disappearing act when the front door suddenly opened with a jolt. Seriously, my flat black shoes with the purple flowers left the ground by at least an inch.
“Ms. Marigold, it’s nice to see you again,” Harry greeted me with that deep voice of his.
We had it all wrong, Raven! Cousin Itt was the culprit all along! Run for your life!
I didn’t do any such thing, but I did draw a bit of energy from the earth to protect us, if needed. You see, Harry was walking toward us, his long hair jostling and flowing behind him as if he didn’t have a care in the world. Come to think of it, he did have an odd vibe about him.
Why would he be here? You don’t think Cousin Itt just offed the old geezer, do you?
Of course, I’d been wondering what Harry was doing visiting Mr. Whitley at eight o’clock on a Saturday night. With that said, my first thought certainly hadn’t gone to murder.
Why not? Isn’t that always what happens? You stumble over a dead body, drag me into a murder mystery that comes close to ending my ninth and final life, and then Heidi comes in to save the day? Oh, wait. That was the dream I had last night. I do apologize. Carry on.
I’m not saying I hadn’t considered Harry turning into something a bit hairier, now that Leo had implanted werewolves in my mind, but I didn’t necessarily defer to out and out murder with some kind of weapon. For some reason, I was more concerned with the business hours of the library. Had Harry closed up shop after Leo and I had left to come and tell Mr. Whitley that I’d been reading up on his family history? I was trying to make sense of this entire situation and coming up empty.
If Mr. Whitley was truly innocent and not feigning innocence about the whole desecration thing, Harry’s recent visit would definitely have Mr. Whitley believing I’d been the one to steal the ring and the remains of his great-great-great-great grandmother.
Unless Leo was spot on in his assumption that Mr. Whitley was lying dead on his living room floor. I needed to play it cool so that Harry didn’t make any sudden moves.
“Hi, Harry,” I replied with a shaky smile, curling my fingers into the palm of my hand so that I didn’t accidentally discharge the energy that had coiled within.
Smart thinking. I don’t believe my tail can take much more damage. You singed what little tuft of fur covered the tip.
“What a coincidence,” I managed to say around the constriction of my throat. Harry had come closer, though he stopped around three feet away from me. What I really wanted to say to him was that we’d never met in the seven months I’d lived in Paramour Bay, yet we’d just so happened to run into each other twice in one evening. I figured mentioning such a thing would definitely give away my apprehension, so I chose a different route. “What are you doing here tonight?”
That’s your different route? You basically just asked him if he murdered the old geezer. Smooth, Raven. Real smooth.
“It was the oddest thing,” Harry said
with his Darth Vader voice and a lopsided grin. “I received a phone call from Arthur right after you left the library earlier this evening. He wanted me to finish copying the pages of Caroline Abigail Whitley’s diary.”
I knew it! Cousin Itt read Caroline Abigail’s deepest and darkest secrets regarding her precious ring, and now he wants the power all to himself! Zap him, Raven!
“I don’t understand why Caroline Abigail Whitley’s diary would be at the library,” I said, refusing to zap anyone until my hand was forced. Besides, I really wanted answers to my questions. “Wouldn’t the diary have been handed down to her children, and then so on throughout the generations?”
“No, no, no,” Harry denied rather emphatically, his long hair swinging behind him. “Warren Lawrence Whitley’s wishes were quite specific. You see, all of the family’s original items are to be stored at the climate-controlled room in the library for safe keeping. This way, the family’s legacy of being the founders of Paramour Bay would be well-documented and preserved.”
Narcissistic much?
“I see,” I replied, having come to the conclusion that Caroline Abigail Whitley must have written down something very important in her diary regarding the sapphire ring. I made a mental note to go back to the library tomorrow and comb through every page to see if there was any mention of the family myth and how it might have gotten started. “Well, I don’t want to keep you. I’m just stopping by to run a business idea past Mr. Whitley.”
I wasn’t lying, per se. I did want to run something past Mr. Whitley, and magic was my business…so the two went hand in hand, right?
Again, your ability to rationalize is stunning.
This was going to be the big test. If Harry went on his merry way, then Mr. Whitley likely wasn’t lying in a pool of blood in the middle of his living room. I instinctively held my breath, waiting for Harry to make a decision.
Cryptic Blend Page 14
