I found one of Aunt Ibby’s surprises immediately. A brand-new cat entrance had been installed in my kitchen door. I’d promised Pete I’d get one, so I was pleased because it was there, but felt a little guilty because I hadn’t done it myself.
The cat door made me think of Pete, which made me think of the yet unopened compartments, which made me think of River, which made me think of pizza. I looked at the clock and grabbed my phone. River would be here any minute, and she’d probably be hungry. I called the Pizza Pirate and ordered a large pizza, half with extra cheese and half with pepperoni—since I didn’t know which River might prefer. I gave the Pizza Pirate the Winter Street address—a lot easier to find than my “Oliver Street, back door, through the garden, up two flights” location. I hurried down the aforementioned two flights and unlocked the Oliver Street door for River, climbed back upstairs, put new plates on the gleaming surface of my table, took the two wineglasses Pete had given me from the cabinet, and sat down for a minute to catch my breath. Then I opened my kitchen door so I’d be sure to hear the front doorbell when the pizza arrived. O’Ryan sat there in the hall, head cocked, tail swishing, eyeing the new cat door, apparently debating whether or not to use it.
“It’s okay, boy,” I told him. “Brand new and just for you.”
He stood, stretched, ignored the new entrance, stalked into the kitchen the old-fashioned way, and hopped up onto one of the new chairs. Downstairs, the Winter Street doorbell chimed “The Impossible Dream,” while at the same time the bell at my own back steps played “Bless This House.” Hot pizza at one door, River at the other. I stood on the third floor landing. Which way to go?
Aunt Ibby appeared downstairs and admitted the pizza guy, so with a quick wave over the railing to my aunt and a hasty “Thanks,” I raced through the apartment to the door in the empty living room, and greeted my friend with a breathless “Come on in.”
“Where are you going in such a hurry?” she asked.
“Trying to be in two places at once,” I gasped. “Make yourself at home while I run downstairs and pay for the pizza.”
She looked around, laughing. “Make myself at home? Where?”
“Follow me,” I said, dashing to the kitchen and pointing toward the table. “Have a seat.” I grabbed my purse, raced downstairs, paid the bill, thanked Aunt Ibby again, and returned to find River standing in the middle of the kitchen, holding a compass and turning slowly in a circle.
“Looks pretty good so far,” she said. “Love the Lucite. Is the stove electric or gas?”
“Gas,” I said. “Why? Does it matter?”
“Sure. It’s the fire mouth.” She put the compass into her pocket. “Yours is okay. It’s separated from the dishwasher, so there’s no clash between fire and water.”
“Cool,” I said. “Glad to hear it. Want some wine?”
“Of course. Listen, you need to hang a picture of fruits and food right there.” She pointed to the wall next to the sink. “And I brought a wind chime for your bedroom. To encourage passion.” She handed me a bright pink bag.
“Thank you,” I said. “That might be just what I need.” I put the pizza box on the counter, took the wine out of the refrigerator and the corkscrew out of the drawer. “Should I open it now?”
“The wine? Or the present?”
I laughed. “Both, I guess.”
“Open your present while I open the wine.” She picked up the corkscrew. “We’ll figure out exactly where to put it when we go in the bedroom to check out that bureau.”
River’s gift was really lovely. Delicate crystals dangled on silver threads from a gracefully shaped piece of driftwood. Tiny silver dragonflies tinkled, bell-like, as I lifted the wind chime from its pink tissue paper cocoon.
“I love it, River,” I said. “It’s just perfect.”
“Glad you like it. It encourages passion, keeps a man in your life.” She handed me a glass of wine. “Or puts some life in your man. Whichever.”
“Oh, there’s life in the man, all right,” I said. “I was just having a few minutes of doubt about how he feels about me. That’s all. Silly stuff.”
“Why? What happened?”
I put two slices of pizza on each plate—one of each kind—and River and I sat facing each other. The new chairs were not only beautiful but also comfortable, as O’Ryan had already discovered. The big cat lifted his head and sniffed the air. I saw River slip him a piece of pepperoni, and he lay back down on the seat cushion. Eyes still open, ears straight up, he seemed to be listening to the conversation.
“I guess you already know that I was upset because he said he couldn’t come over to open the compartments tonight. I thought he was as curious about them as I am. Then—I hate to admit this—I saw him today with a blond woman. She was in the front seat of the car with him, and I felt a little . . . um . . . suspicious.”
“Jealous?”
I shrugged and took a sip of wine. “I wouldn’t call it that. Anyway, I’m over it. She’s probably just a coworker.”
“A pretty blonde? Short, curly hair? Big boobs?”
“I didn’t get a good look at her. I think the short, curly hair is right, though. Why? Do you think you know who she is?”
River took a big bite of pizza. “Probably just Daphne. They ask her to come in every once in a while to talk to them about her low-life boyfriend—especially since he just got out of jail. I know all about it because she calls me for a reading once in a while.” She shook her head. “Poor kid.”
“Daphne?”
“Yeah. She goes by Daphne Trent, but that’s not her real name. Got mixed up with that low-life murderer years ago. She says that the cops think she might know where a big gazillion-dollar diamond is. There’s been some stuff in the paper about it lately.” She helped herself to another slice of pizza and slipped O’Ryan another piece of pepperoni. “Pete was probably just driving her home so she wouldn’t have to take a cab. It’s really sad. You’d think they’d figure out that if she had a giant diamond, she could afford to buy herself a car.”
“Wait a minute. You know my bureau came from the lowlife’s house, don’t you? We are talking about Tommy Trent, aren’t we? Daphne’s boyfriend who killed his wife?”
“That’s him, all right. You mean, your bureau came from Trent’s house?”
“Uh-huh. That’s where Shea Tolliver told me she got it.”
“Oh, oh.” She drained her wineglass and stood up. “That might be bad karma. Bad bagua. Especially since it has that mirror thing, too. You’d better let me take a look at it right away.”
O’Ryan had already jumped down from his chair and stood waiting at the open door of the bedroom. River and I followed the cat into the room. I sat at the foot of the bed, while River stood, hands on her hips, facing the bureau.
A long silent moment passed. River reached into her pocket and pulled out the compass. She turned slowly, as she had in the kitchen. She walked to the window, looked out, returned to the center of the room, and turned again, this time in the opposite direction.
“Well?” I said. “What do you think?”
“It’s a really nice piece of furniture,” she said, putting the compass back in her pocket. “It would be a shame to get rid of it just because of where it used to be.” She waved a hand toward the window. “And the furniture placement so far is fine. You could use some plants in here. I think I’ll just try a cleansing spell on the bureau after we look inside the compartments, okay?”
“Whatever you say.”
“Good. Got any red candles?”
“I’ve got one of those candles in a jar that makes the place smell good. Cherries Jubilee. It’s red.”
“That’ll do. And next time you go shopping, get a big mirror. Put it where you can’t see yourself when you’re in bed.”
“Big mirror. Okay.”
“Speaking of mirrors . . .” She frowned, facing the bureau once again. “Can I get a look at the black mirror please?”
“All righ
t. Just lift the top section there. You’ll see it.” I turned away from the bureau and closed my eyes. “I won’t look, if you don’t mind.”
I heard the creak of tiny hinges as she lifted the panel. “I don’t get it, Lee,” she said. “Looks like an ordinary mirror to me.”
Reluctantly, I opened my eyes. I stood and walked across to where River stood, her hand still holding the panel upright. She was right. It looked like an ordinary mirror to me, too. A bright, shiny beveled edge, a perfectly clear mirror, without a trace of tarnish or a spot of blackness anywhere.
CHAPTER 14
I moved closer, peering over River’s shoulder. “It’s not the same mirror,” I said. “But how can that be?”
“If it’s a different mirror, someone replaced the old one,” River said with perfect logic.
“Aunt Ibby,” I said, remembering her promise of surprises. “She said she knew a good furniture refinisher who could fix it.”
“You must be relieved. At least you won’t be seeing visions in your own bedroom.”
I thought about that for a long moment. “I guess so,” I said, looking at my reflection in that clear, unblemished surface. “But still . . .”
“You want to know where the woman and the dog were going. What they were trying to show you.”
“I think you’re right,” I admitted. “I must be nuts. I’ve been complaining about this gazing thing from the minute I learned about it, and now, well, I was kind of getting used to having it.”
“Don’t worry. I’m sure there are plenty of black, shiny objects around here that will work just as well. Let’s open those compartments. Okay?”
“Okay.” I knew she was right. “Here we go. Shall I open the one Pete and I opened first, so you can see the coin and the dog license?”
“Yes, please. I want to see ever ything.”
I pressed the tiny indentation in the wood that Pete had spotted and pointed out the compartment with two pockets. “You go ahead and take them out if you want to.”
“Oh, I want to.” She reached into the first one and unwrapped the coin. “Real silver,” she said, placing it on the bed, just as Pete had the evening before, and followed it with the tarnished dog license. “That’s nice that somebody saved it to remember a dog they loved.”
“That’s just what Pete and I thought,” I said. “Well, let’s get started on the rest of them.” I pulled out the top drawer, tossed the envelope containing the directions and the sheaf of newspaper clippings onto the bed, and tapped the back of the drawer gently. “Watch this. There’s a false back in this one.” It took a bit of prying, and one broken fingernail, but a smooth section of wood soon moved upward, revealing a narrow hiding space.
“Holy cow!” River leaned forward. “Is there anything in it?”
I slid my hand gingerly into the opening and grasped a slim, flat tissue-wrapped item between two fingers. I pulled it out and placed it on the bed. “Want to do the honors?” I asked my friend.
“Really? Me?” River removed the tissue paper, revealing an ordinary composition book, the kind with a speckled black-and-white cover and lined pages inside. She opened the cover. Neat, childlike handwriting covered page after page with rounded cursive letters. Here and there items had been pasted in—postcards, ticket stubs, and the like. It reminded me of notebooks I’d kept when I was a kid.
“Some of it looks like poetry, the way the lines are spaced,” River said. “Want to read it now or keep opening?”
“Open now. Read later,” I said, putting the clippings and the directions back into the drawer, replacing it, and laying the composition book on the bed. I smoothed the tissue paper and laid it carefully on the bolster in front of the headboard. I moved around to the same side of the bureau where Pete had found the first compartment, and knelt on the floor. “Here’s another one,” I said, pointing at a spot a few inches above the floor. “This is my favorite. It works from a spring inside.” I pressed on the spot and watched as a small section of wood slid silently to one side, revealing yet another tissue-wrapped item, this one much smaller than the previous one. “My turn to open.”
I unwrapped the package, trying not to tear the tissue paper, and revealed a silver picture frame holding a faded color photo of an elderly gentleman. He stood, smiling, in front of a rustic-looking cottage, holding a large fish at arm’s length. “A nice big cod. He looks really proud of it. I wonder who he is.” I turned the frame over. Written in pencil on the cardboard backing was the word Grandpa and the date 1974. “Somebody’s grandpa,” I said, putting the frame next to the notebook and the tissue paper on the bolster.
“This is fun.” River’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “Could I open a compartment? Will you show me how it works?”
“Sure. The next two are on the back. Help me move it away from the wall. I’ll show you.” Together, we pulled and wiggled the bureau far enough so that we could both fit behind it. “You have to sort of pr y this one a little. Wait a minute, until I get a kitchen knife or a nail file or something. I’ve already broken one fingernail today.”
I hurried back to the kitchen, grabbed a small paring knife, went back into the bedroom, and handed it to her. “There. See that seam between the boards? Stick the knife right about here.” I pointed to the spot, which I remembered from my childhood.
“Wow! Look. It’s moving!” I smiled at my friend’s delight as yet another secret compartment was revealed. This one held a small, tissue-wrapped blue velvet jewelry box. River gave me a questioning look. I nodded, and she opened the lid. She frowned. “Do you think this is the box the pink diamond used to be in?”
“It could be,” I said. “Is that a card in there?”
“Yep. Looks like it.” She removed the ivory-colored oblong and carried it over to the window, where the fading late afternoon light was better, and read aloud. “For my darling Helena, the sparkling gem of my life. With all my love, from John.”
“Ohh,” we chorused.
“How sweet,” River said, replacing the card in the jewelry box.
“A real love stor y,” I said.
“So, where’s the diamond?” River asked. “Do you think Shea found it, after all?”
“I don’t know. It’s possible, though, isn’t it? It could have been in the jewelry box. I ought to tell Pete about this.”
“You think he might want to check for fingerprints?”
“Probably not. We know Shea touched it. She said she’d opened all the compartments and left everything the way it was for the new owner. But I’ll tell him about it for sure.”
“The new owner. That’s you.” She handed me the velvet jewelry box.
I reached over and gently closed the bureau’s top panel, hiding the mirror once again, and then put the jewelry box on the bed and the tissue paper with the others. “Okay. Five compartments, counting the double one. One more to go. Want to take a guess at where it is?”
“You said there were two on the back, so we’re probably looking at it. Right?”
“Right.”
She knelt and ran her hands up and down the smooth wood. After a few minutes she sighed. “I give up. Show me.”
“I don’t blame you. This is a tricky one. Watch.” I leaned down beside her and pointed to the spot where the leg met the body of the bureau. “Press hard at the top edge of the leg.”
She did as I said, and gasped when a tiny drawer slid open. We both leaned forward and looked inside.
I reached into the little space with thumb and forefinger and pulled out a small unsealed envelope. I opened it carefully. Another photo. This time of a dog. A pretty little gray schnauzer. “The dog on the beach,” I said, slipping the photo back into the envelope and placing it on the bed. “It has to be.”
River sat back on her heels, then stood. “It’s kind of like Christmas morning, after all the presents have been opened, isn’t it?” she said.
“Exactly like that,” I said, closing the drawer, standing, and pushing the bureau back into
place. “I guess there’s no doubt that the bureau belonged to Helena. I suppose it came from her bedroom.”
“You’re thinking the woman in your vision is Helena,” River said.
“It would make sense.”
“And maybe the little dog in the photo is the one the license belonged to.”
“I’ll bet it is.”
“And you’re wondering what Helena and the dog are trying to tell you. Right?”
“Right. But I guess I’m going to have to find another magic mirror somewhere if I’m ever going to find out what she wants me to do.” O’Ryan stepped daintily over the picture of the dog, sat on the bolster, beside the pile of tissue-paper wrappings, and looked at me expectantly. “But did you notice that the tissue the coin and the dog license were wrapped in was torn in half.”
“Are you talking to me or to him?” River whispered, pointing at O’Ryan.
I laughed. “Both, sort of. But I have to admit, I do talk to him quite a lot.”
“Does he ever answer?”
“No. Not exactly. Maybe,” I answered weakly. “It’s sort of hard to explain.”
She held up both hands. “Stop. Never mind. Listen. Get that red candle and put it on top of the bureau. I’m going to tr y a quick spell.”
I did as she asked, lit the candle, and watched as she faced the bureau, raised her arms, palms up, and bowed her head. She spoke quietly, with a chanting rhythm. “May the powers of the stars above and the earth below bless this place and this time and this woman and I who am with you.”
Then she turned, facing me, and smiled. “That should help. Thanks for the pizza and the grand opening. It was fun. I have to get going if I’m going to grab a nap before I have to go to the station.”
“Thanks for coming over,” I said. “I love the wind chime, and I appreciate the spell. I’ll tr y to watch your show tonight. What’ll it be? Zombies again?”
“Nope. An oldie but goodie. The Curse of the Cat People.”
Look Both Ways Page 9
