by Morgana Best
It was obvious that I couldn’t walk around the whole of the caves aiming the button in all directions, and my thumb was already getting sore. The only obvious place to try was the XXII symbol on the wall between the Round Cave and Franklin’s Cave. I would aim the button at that. If that didn’t work, I would continue around the whole caves area aiming the button at random, and then come back tomorrow and do so more thoroughly.
Actually, I wasn’t really expecting anything when I aimed the button at the XXII symbol, but to my astonishment, there was a strange sound and the whole panel of wall lifted up, just like on Maxwell Smart before he gets to the phone booth.
The wall opened to reveal an old wooden door with a prominent keyhole. I was so surprised that I fumbled with the key, but to my dismay, the lock wouldn’t turn. It took me a few seconds to realise I had the wrong key. I had a little trouble with the key marked XXII, but not too much.
As I walked through the door, the wooden door slammed shut behind me. Everything was at once pitch black. Fighting back terror, I fumbled in my bag for my torch, hoping the batteries weren’t suddenly flat.
My hand had just closed over my torch when abruptly, behind me, the whisper came in my ear again. The page, the page. Hot breath brushed my ear. I was frozen in terror. I held my breath.
The whisper came again, this time more loudly. The page, the page.
I debated turning on the torch but I didn’t want to see the apparition, or worse still, an actual human. I still hadn’t decided what to do when for some reason I turned on the torch and swung around. To my immense relief, there was no one there.
I swung the torch back around away from the direction of the door and could see no one, although it didn’t afford much light.
At that instant, the air almost crackled with electricity. A potent sense of presence now shared the space with me. I wanted to run away screaming, but steeled myself to stand still and look around the room.
There was a tunnel in front of me, and piles of chalk on the floor. The cave I was in was small. In front of me was a small wooden table next to a huge chest. I was terrified, but wanted to try the key in that chest before beating a hasty retreat. I was scared that I wouldn’t be able to get back out and no one knew I was here. I was on the very edge of panic, but tried to force my mind to concentrate on the chest.
This time the key opened the chest on the first attempt. No doubt having the correct key helped. At the bottom of the chest was a small case. I reached in and carefully picked it up.
The case opened easily, and inside was the sought after page. I caught my breath.
As soon as I touched it, an unearthly scream pierced the air. The air went thick and I had trouble breathing. Panic set in so I swung around and aimed the button at the door. It opened partly, and then shut. I pressed the button a few times then held my finger on it.
To my immense relief, the door opened and I ran out into the caves tunnel. I put the page back in the case, shoved the case and torch in my bag, and hurried down the tunnel.
The presence came up behind me, and instead of whispering, snatched at my clothes. I broke into a run. Ghostly fingers brushed my face. They were like ice.
I sprinted faster, charging through the Circle, past the Tool Store, and out into the merciful open air, and then kept running down the hill to the bus stop at West Wycombe. I had never run so far or so fast in my life. All the while, cold breaths wafted across my cheek, but this time the ghostly presence did not speak. I was cold inside and out. A chill passed over and through me.
Half an hour later, I burst inside the door at Aunt Beth’s and hurried around, turning on all the lights in the house. The presence had left when I was on the bus, but I had felt more than uneasy on the walk home.
The chain was weighty around my neck. I sure wasn’t going to wear the heavy chain at all times. When I got back to Australia I would put it in a bank vault, but here in England I did not dare take it off.
Chapter 15
I was relieved to be back in the relative safety of Aunt Beth’s house, and intended to make notes that night on her murder. Surely there was something I was missing. I wasn’t as clear headed as usual. The combination of jet lag, a full schedule since I had arrived, and the shock over Aunt Beth’s murder had left me no time for thought.
I poured a generous helping of Aunt Beth’s geranium bubble bath into the running bath water and swished my hand around in the water for good measure. For some reason I felt somewhat guilty using Aunt Beth’s stuff. She wouldn’t need it, but still…
As I lay with my eyes shut, trying to relax in the soothing water, I had the feeling I was being watched. I opened my eyes and saw the enormous eyes of Merlin peering over the rim of the bathtub at me. I was safe from her swipes, but found it hard to relax when I was under such close scrutiny, albeit from a cat, so gave up and climbed out the bath. Merlin hissed and ran out of the room as soon as she saw the water dripping from me. She seemed to take it as personal affront.
I dressed in jeans and a tee, thinking that I hadn’t been prepared for just how hot England was at this time of year. I’d always imagined the English in perpetual winter.
I sat at my laptop and, after brushing cat hair off it, typed the heading Suspects. That was as far as I got. There were no suspects. I deleted the word, and then typed in the names of everyone I knew in England:
Douglas Brown
John Smith
Cassandra—what was her last name?
Dr Spence.
I googled all four of them, and came up with nothing at all. I tried Facebook, again. Nothing. I thought it a little strange that neither John nor Douglas were on Facebook, or LinkedIn for that matter. I would have to find out Cassandra’s last name, not that I expected that she would be on Facebook, but then again, you never know.
I wasn’t getting anywhere, so I decided to get the clothes off the washing line and then have a glass of wine.
I went outside to bring in the washing. Just as I reached up for a sock, I heard a loud yowl. I looked around for Merlin, but there was no sign of her. As I reached for the sock again, to my horror, I saw Merlin in one of Cassandra’s lower windows.
Cassandra had made no secret that she despised the cat. Whatever would she do if she came home and found her in her house? And how did Merlin get in there in the first place? There was a tree at the back of the house on Cassandra’s side, and the upstairs window near it was open. I could only assume that Merlin had made her way into the house that way.
I ran around to Cassandra’s front door, but her car was not parked out front in its parking space, so I hurried around to the back of the house where Merlin was still sitting on the window sill, looking quite pleased with herself. The window appeared to be jammed in a slightly open position, but not enough for Merlin to squeeze out.
I tried to push the heavy, old wooden window up, but at first it wouldn’t budge. Finally, I got it open enough for Merlin, but when I reached for her, she moved slightly away, and just out of reach. I encouraged the window up a little further, until I could just squeeze through it. I stuck my head and shoulders through and reached for Merlin, but again, she jumped away.
I muttered all sorts of unpleasant things under my breath. I followed those words with, “Nice kitty, kitty,” in the friendliest tone I could muster, but Merlin was having none of it.
I wiggled forward until she was just in reach and then lunged for her. With split second timing, she jumped on a shelf, and then shimmied up the shelving like a ninja. I stayed half in, half out the window, and wondered what to do next. If I climbed through the window, that would be breaking and entering. If I didn’t and left Merlin in there, what would Cassandra do to her?
With a sigh of resignation, I pushed myself through the window, and stood up in the cramped room. It was a horrid little room, with dirty, ancient linoleum covering the floor. Hideous, grey striped wallpaper peeled off the walls. There were some dead African violets on a rickety shelf just next to the window.
The only purpose of the room seemed to be as an entrance for the back door, perhaps a mudroom, as there was a large, metal sink. A couple of old oilskin coats hung from pegs on the wall, and there was a pile of mouldy washing on the floor. It looked as if Cassandra had forgotten to hang it out weeks ago.
Merlin looked down on me from on top of the shelving. Luckily, there was an old wooden door leading to the rest of the house, so I shut that. Merlin’s only way out was now through the window. I climbed on an old wooden stool, hoping it would take my weight, and tried encouraging her again. “Here, kitty, kitty,” but that only brought a glare. I adjusted my stance on the stool and reached out for her.
Merlin was not impressed. She hissed and leapt off the top shelf, and in one extra bound, was through the window. My relief was short-lived as she knocked down several bottles from the shelf in her escape. Luckily, they landed on the pile of mouldy washing, so didn’t break.
I picked up them up to put them back on the shelf. I had to hurry before Cassandra came home and caught me red-handed. Whatever would she say!
There was an old, unopened, green packet of something labelled ‘Soda Crystals,’ a bright red packet of something called ‘Daz,’ which I assumed was laundry powder. Thankfully it was unopened too, although it looked as though it belonged in a museum and as if snails had been chewing on it, and there was half a glass bottle of something called ‘Marshall Bluing.’ Lucky for me, that lid was on tightly or the bright, blue liquid would have covered everything. I climbed back up on the stool and shoved everything back on the top shelf, way above my head, and then reached for the last bottle.
It was the only item not covered in thick dust, and as I picked it up from the pile of dirty washing, I turned it over to read the label.
I gasped. It read, ‘Sodium Selenite oral solution for cattle use: veterinary medicine.’ The bottle was half empty.
I caught my breath as everything swirled around me. Cassandra was my aunt’s murderer!
Chapter 16
I put the bottle back, and tried to make everything look as if I had not been inside Cassandra’s house. I remembered to open the internal door, and then I climbed back through the window. It took me quite some time to manage to close the window to its original position.
I was shaking badly, but hurried away as fast I could in the direction of the front of the house. To my enormous relief, Cassandra’s car was not out the front. I sank down on Aunt Beth’s front doorstep with relief.
Now what to do? Should I call the police? And tell them what? That my aunt, whose death was officially recorded as ‘No Suspicious Circumstances,’ had been murdered with a selenium overdose by her elderly neighbour? The police would surely just laugh at me. Yet I had to do something.
I hurried back inside the house and sat at the kitchen table, still wondering what to do. I poured a glass of wine, and had a gulp or two. It tasted quite strange, but that was the last thing on my mind.
I had just decided to call the police, when to my horror, the doorbell rang. What if it was Cassandra? What would I do? How could I act as if nothing was wrong? Surely she would see it on my face. Perhaps I wouldn’t answer the door. She would surely know something was wrong then.
The doorbell rang again, so I walked to answer it, my heart in my stomach.
I opened the door. To my horror, it was Cassandra.
“Misty, have you had dinner yet?”
I shook my head and tried to act normal. My heart was thumping so loudly that I wondered if she could hear it. “No, I feel a migraine coming on. I was about to go to bed.”
Cassandra narrowed her eyes at me, and I was dreadfully afraid that she had perceived the difference in my manner. “I’ve come to say I’ve made us dinner. Would you like to come over?”
“Sorry, Cassandra, but I don’t feel well enough to have dinner. Thanks, anyway.”
Cassandra was clearly determined. “Well, I did make you dinner, so come and get it. You can eat it later. Or I could just bring a plate back over for you now?”
I had no idea what to do. If I continued to refuse, Cassandra would be suspicious. I figured there was no harm in following her into her house. After all, she was a frail, elderly lady, and I certainly had no intention of eating or drinking anything she gave me, or for that matter, turning my back on her. I told myself that I would be in no danger. “Thanks, Cassandra. I’ll come over and get it now, and then I’ll go straight to bed.”
Cassandra smiled politely. “Good, dear.”
I picked up the door keys from the hallstand and followed Cassandra next door to her house. My pulse was racing and my legs were weak.
Even in my fearful state, I noted that Cassandra’s decor was not what I expected, not at all. I had expected an interior to match the dirty mudroom, but Cassandra’s living room was completely trendy and minimalist chic. Not a lace doily in sight.
Cassandra beamed at me. “Have a seat, dear, while I find something to put your dinner in. I’ll give you a bottle of wine too. Red or white wine?”
“Um, red, please.” I had absolutely no intention of eating or drinking anything Cassandra gave me. Any food was going into the garbage as soon as I got home, and I intended to pour the wine down the sink.
Cassandra soon returned and handed me the bottle of red and a container. “I hope you like tomato pasta.”
I plastered a false smile on my face and tried to stop my knees from trembling. “Thanks, Cassandra. I love tomato pasta.” I stood up and turned to leave.
Cassandra’s voice came from behind. “Was that Beth’s lawyer who came earlier?”
I turned back reluctantly, anxious to get away from Cassandra as soon as possible. “Yes, do you know him?”
Cassandra took a step closer to me and I steeled myself not to take a step back. “I met him at Beth’s once. I hope you have done well out of the will?”
I nearly blurted out what had actually happened, but remembered in time. “Sad to say, he simply came to tell me that he couldn’t tell me anything yet, except for the fact that I didn’t get anything except for Merlin the cat.”
Cassandra laughed. She must have thought that really funny, for her laugh got higher and higher. Her face got longer. I felt very tired all of a sudden. Suddenly Cassandra was bending over me. I hadn’t seen her move. “Misty, where’s the page?”
“What?”
Cassandra grabbed my face and squeezed my cheeks hard. “Don’t make it worse for yourself! Tell me now.”
I tried to walk away but my head swum. I felt horribly sick. Nothing made sense. As I staggered, the chain fell forward.
“Ah!” Cassandra seized the chain. “Have you found the page?”
My mouth felt dry. “Cassandra, what’s going on?”
“Tell me where the page is!” She slapped me hard across my face.
That was the last thing I remembered.
I woke up on a bed, my hands and feet tied to the bedposts. I felt sick and groggy. My only coherent thought was that Cassandra was stronger than she looked, to carry me up the stairs. Cassandra was no sweet old lady.
Just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse, the presence returned. I felt its hot breath in my ear. The page, the page. I screamed, or more like, croaked, as my mouth was dry and my throat constricted.
I opened my eyes for a moment, but my head hurt. Cassandra was standing by the bed, but she did nothing to acknowledge my presence. I noticed her pale hands hanging limply by her sides. Her fingers were long, as were her fingernails, which were painted red. Her skin was very pale and her face difficult to look at. It seemed to shimmer in overlapping planes. Her age was impossible to tell; she seemed ageless. If I had to sum her up in one word I would say ‘cruel,’ but cruelty implies emotion, and this woman, this creature, had none. She was the most terrifying thing I had even seen.
She did not speak to me, but when she at last turned her gaze on me, goose bumps broke out all over my body and my hair felt like it was standing on end. A chill ran through my v
ery depths. I faded back into oblivion, and stayed in a foggy state until I heard someone call my name.
“Misty?”
“Douglas! Douglas, help! Where are you?”
“Over here. Misty, are you all right? I’ve been so worried!”
I wondered why Douglas wasn’t coming to me, and gingerly lifted my head. There, in a large chair, was Douglas. His feet and hands were tied, and a length of rope was wrapped around his chest.
I wanted to ask what had happened, but I felt too sick and weak, so just lay there.
“Misty, are you hurt?” he asked me.
“I feel sick. What happened? Are you okay?” It was quite an effort to say the words.
“Misty, I’ve been so worried,” he said again. His voice was full of concern. “I came over here looking for you and found Cassandra there. She pulled a gun on me and made me carry you upstairs. She tied me up and then tied you up. She wanted to know if I knew where the page was.”
I managed to speak again. “Yes, she asked me too.”
Cassandra walked into the room, waving my necklace at me. I was relieved I could still feel my other necklace, the one that opened the Oracle book, round my neck.
“Sorry to break up this happy little reunion, but I’m running out of patience.” She walked over to me and held a gun in front of my face. “Do you know what this is?”
“A gun.” I didn’t want to sound like I was being smart to a gun toting maniac but didn’t know what else to say.
“Yes, and this bit here is the silencer.” She tapped the end of the gun, my necklace swinging in her hand. “Tell me where the page is.”
“If you kill me, you’ll never find it.”
“Obviously. That’s why I’m going to shoot this man.” I heard Douglas’s sharp intake of breath as she aimed the gun at him. “This is not a game, Misty. I will shoot him. Why do you care about the page? It’s nothing to you. I don’t want to kill either of you. If you give me the page, you can both go free. If you tell the police, they won’t believe you.”
