by R A Muth
When Marci shook her head, I continued, "Go ahead, get one. You have to try one. The beach plum jam filling is delicious. It's like putting a little bit of heaven in your mouth. The sugar on the outside of the donut has the perfect amount of sweetness to balance the jam's tartness. You're going to love it," I urged.
What Asher said about the beach plums bushes on Mrs. Livingston's property came to mind, and I wondered where Ivy got her ingredients. It was no secret she made the jam herself. She and Joe lived above the cafe so, unless they had some secret rooftop garden, the fruit couldn't have come from plants she owned. I took a bite and let the food sit on my tongue for a few seconds, relishing in the way my taste buds absorbed the contrasting flavors.
"While I'm sure these donuts are as delicious as you claim, we should get to the topic at hand. As much as I hate to discuss death in the presence of food, I don't have a lot of free time today. This business with Aunt Christine has put a real dent in my schedule."
"Oh." Hazel, who had started to reach for a donut but now pulled her hand away.
Traitor, I thought while chewing as slow as I could to draw as little attention as possible to my rudeness. I left the rest of the donut untouched on a napkin in front of me.
Suddenly, I was eager to get the discussion over so I could be selfish and finish the food I'd started. Folding my hands in my lap and asked, "What is it that you'd like to know?"
Marci answered with a single word, "Everything."
“When we first got to the house, I used the code Mrs. Livingston gave me to enter through the front door,” Hazel explained. She went on to give a quick recap of the additional sequence of events starting with the time we entered the home until the time we found the remains.
Much to my relief, Hazel wasn’t aware of the bottle. There was no way I would tell them I removed it from the property, along with the cat. Even though Marci had been okay with me taking Rune home at the time, she might change her mind if she knew I’d committed petty theft. If she found out and told Gavin then, in the eyes of the law, it wouldn’t matter how good my intentions were at the time. And Gavin would relish the opportunity to put me in handcuffs, not to mention all the lewd jokes he’d make at my expense after the fact.
I realized Hazel wasn’t talking and found both women staring at me. I nodded and said, “Yep. It happened just as Hazel said.”
Marci repeated some of the same questions the police had asked about the condition of the skeleton, and we provided the same answers we had given earlier that morning. One elbow on the table, she cupped her hand in her chin and sighed. “I hope it’s not Aunt Christine, and yet at the same time, I cannot imagine who else it might be. She was a bit of a recluse, in case you hadn’t noticed. She’d had problems with people trying to trespass onto the property for various reasons.”
“That’s probably something you should mention to the police,” Hazel urged.
“Oh, I will. Officer Rjasko promised to call me later. This is horrible timing, but do either of you know if he’s single? If he’s not, that’s okay but if he is, I’m not going to look a gift horse in the mouth.”
“Should you be thinking about dating at a time like this?” I blurted.
Hazel shot me a look, and Marci gave a laugh that failed to reach her eyes. “Believe it or not, this is the kind of thing Aunt Christine would have done. If she was here, she’d tell me not to waste a minute of my life grieving hers. She was such a huge influence in my life, even after she, well.” Marci punctuated her words with a shrug.
There were some other questions I had, and this felt like a good time to start asking them. “So, Marci, had you heard from your aunt in the past few weeks? I mean, when’s the last time you spoke with her?”
“Oh, it was several weeks ago. About a month, maybe? She had travel plans. If you saw her Friday, as you say, then you’ve seen her more recently than I have.” Marci’s eyebrows furrowed, and she pressed, “How long would she have to be in the attic to have reached that level of decomposition? More than a couple of days, right?”
“That’s anybody’s guess. We’re not biology experts by any means, but it really depends on the method of the crime.” Hazel finally took a bite of her donut, much to my relief.
Looking toward the door and then back to Marci, I asked, “Where are your cousins, by the way? We’ve been through this once with the police and now again with you. I can’t speak for Hazel, but I’d rather not go through these details a third time when they show up. It’s been a long day and it’s not even noon. Are they going to be here anytime soon?”
“No. They’re convinced the house is haunted and will have nothing to do with it until I find someone to 'clean the place.'” She put air quotes around the last three words.
Hazel smacked her hand on the tabletop so hard it jarred the plate of donuts. Ignoring the stares from those around us, she announced, “Ha! Your cousins are in luck because Tori and I are cleaners.”
“Um, Hazel? We’re estate cleaners,” I whispered to remind her. Although we’d never fully transitioned from domestic help to estate cleaning, she insisted we continue using the feather duster logo.
“We will be cleaning the house, Tori. It’s a different kind of cleaning, and it’s better than the hoarding situation we tackled last month.” Hazel’s eyes twinkled. “We can hold a séance!”
I wondered if she’d lost her mind, but aloud, I said, “A what? No way, Hazel. We can’t!”
Chapter 16
“Yes, you can! And I’ll pay extra,” Marci offered. “In fact, if you two can convince my cousins that the mansion is ghost-free, I’ll double whatever my aunt promised for cleaning out her attic.”
Hazel and I went silent, and I didn’t have to be psychic to know what was going through her mind. We were going to hold a séance. Although I hated the idea of tricking Marci’s cousins, the bottom line was that within a couple of weeks, all my bills would become due. Without the payment for the Livingston job and little savings to fall back on, I needed a financial windfall, especially if I was ever going to pay off those dumb parking tickets.
Gulping my uncertainty, I asked, “Are you sure about doubling that amount? Because I don’t know if I can--”
“Fine. Add five thousand dollars to whatever that amount is,” Marci blurted. “And I’ll pay in cash.”
Hazel and I stared at each other for a second before looking at Marci again. Using every bit of telepathy Marci claimed I had, I thought, if word gets out about this, girlfriend, it won’t be right. I’m not sure the risk to our reputation is worth any amount of money.
Speaking for both of us, Hazel agreed, “That works. When and where would you like this to happen?”
“Tomorrow at dusk on the patio behind Aunt Christine’s house.”
“Five thousand dollars!” Hazel squealed once we were back in the minivan. “Can you believe this? It seems too good to be true. You’ll be able to pay your bills, and you can pay your fines to get the boot off your car. And imagine all the cat toys you can buy for Rune!”
“Have you ever heard the saying, ‘If it seems too good to be true, it probably is’?” I buckled my seatbelt and settled the cardboard takeout container containing the leftover donuts on my ample thighs. I didn’t need these, but it had been a long day, and I wanted them. After everything I had been through and still had to go through with an Irish cat-man-person waiting for me at home, I had earned them. There would be time for dieting tomorrow. Or the next day.
“Don’t be such a spoilsport. This séance is a one-time thing.” As she had since we were kids, Hazel stuck out her tongue and blew, sending spittle into the air.
I leaned back against the seat to avoid having her gross saliva come into contact with me. It was a disgusting habit, but pretty much the only one she had, so I tried not to fault her on it--at least, not out loud. “Uh-huh. How are we supposed to 'clean the house?'” I mimicked Marci’s air quotes. “The whole mansion is a crime scene. There’s no place to hold a séance, even
if we knew how.”
“Don’t you remember? Marci would like to hold it in the backyard!” The look of glee on her face made me wonder about her sanity.
“What?”
“Sure! There’s a patio in the back. It’s far enough away from the house that Gavin can’t bug us for trespassing. You’ll have plenty of room to do your voodoo.”
I looked at Hazel as if extra heads had sprung from her shoulders. Maybe I should have focused more on listening to the conversation and less on eating the donut. “And why do I have to be the one to do the voodoo?”
“Because you’re the redhead. It’s a common fact that redheads have a higher chance of having special powers.”
“What kind of ‘special powers’?” Like talking to Irishmen who claim to be cats? The thought popped into my brain, but I pushed it away.
“Psychic powers.”
“You’re leaving out one thing. I’m not psychic. How am I supposed to know what to do? Neither of us has ever held a séance before.”
“We have communed with the dead, though. Remember that time we used a spirit board to summon random ghosts?”
With great reluctance, I began, “Hazel, so help me, if you’re talking about the time during the cast party with our high school thespian troupe after Little Shop of Horrors--”
“Yep! See? You do have the experience, after all.”
“This is ridiculous. That was a teenage prank created from an old science fair display. Trying to summon the spirits of the pirates who founded Cooper’s Cove is a little different than what you’re asking me to do now.”
“Tori, it was so cool, though. People at our fifteen-year reunion were still talking about it. If half the town already assumes you have special powers, then it makes perfect sense for you to tap into the rumors.” When I hesitated, she added, “And didn’t you say earlier that you would use the extra money? Opportunity is knocking, and it’s offering us thousands of dollars. It’s time to open that door and take it to the bank.”
Much as I hated to admit it, I realized that Hazel was right. Now that I was a widow, every last bit of the household expenses was mine alone to bear. Duffy’s life insurance barely paid for his funeral. Job openings in Cooper’s Cove were few and far between, and the ones that did open were minimum wage positions in the retail industry.
“You’re right. I do need the money, which is the sole reason why I am even considering this.”
“Which means yes.”
“And it would be for this one time, due to how much Marci is willing to pay.”
“So, is that a yes?”
Against my better judgment, I gave a reluctant nod. “Okay, yes.”
Hazel drew one hand into a fist and pumped it in the air before taking the key from the ignition. “I hope you don’t mind if we head across the street to the Treasure Trove before I take you back to your house. I’ve seen your wardrobe, and there’s nothing that says, ‘I’m a sorceress who can run evil spirits from your home.’”
“Mrs. Livingston wasn’t evil, though.”
“That depends on who you ask. You can figure out your script later. First, we’re going to have to find you a costume.”
“I’m not sure I can afford that place.”
“Didn’t you see their Reel Life post? Everything’s ninety percent off.”
“What? That’s crazy! Not that I mind a discount, but why?”
“They’re moving to Florida. None of their kids are interested in running it, so they’re selling the building and contents at auction next month.”
“I wish we could afford it. Could you imagine if we were able to cut out the middle-man and sell things on consignment in a shop of our own?”
“That would be wicked awesome!”
Chapter 17
An hour later, I walked out of the Treasure Trove with my arms loaded with the costume to end all costumes. It turned out the antique store was the perfect place to shop for everything required for a fake séance. In addition to talking me into buying a purple homecoming gown that looked like a costume from Hocus Pocus, Hazel purchased an assortment of candles. The one item we would like to have had, but neither could locate, was a crystal ball. Hazel offered to buy me matching stilettos to go with the dress but, having no intention of breaking my neck, I declined. Ballet flats would suffice.
“I hate to admit it, but I’m starting to get a little excited about all this,” I confided when we were back in the van.
“See? It’s because, deep down, you understand that we’re helping people.”
“Maybe. I still can’t believe this prom dress fits me.”
“Those black lace accents are wicked vintage. They’re like, straight out of the eighties. And the bodice fits you like a glove.”
“It sure does. I wish the actual dress I wore to prom had looked this good.” Speaking the words surfaced unpleasant memories of my mother’s third marriage to Stew-the-shrew. Their shaky union lasted from Halloween of my senior year of high school to a few months after graduation. He refused to contribute anything positive toward my well-being, leaving it to whatever my mother could scrape together from cleaning rooms at the Salty Siren, a turn-of-the-century tavern and motel halfway between here and Glendale.
Hazel pulled the van into my driveway in time to see the kitchen light turn off. Darn it. I had almost convinced myself I imagined the earlier incident with Rune, but he was the only one who could have flipped the switch--unless someone else was with him.
Hazel’s eyes went wide as saucers. As if reading my thoughts, she asked, “Is someone in your house?”
“What? No! Don’t be silly. Since Duffy passed away, I have the lights on timers.” Why did I say that? The next time Hazel was in my house, she’d notice if the lights weren’t on timers. Now I would have to add buying and installing smart outlets to my list of chores. While I was at it, I should add learning how to use the smart technology required for creating a schedule of timers for the lights, as well.
“Oh, that’s a great idea. Let me help you carry this stuff inside,” Hazel insisted.
Nervous that she might see Rune as something more than a cat, I tried to argue, “It’s okay. I’ve got this.”
“Don’t be silly. Let me help,” Hazel ordered, forcing two of the shopping bags from my arms and holding them in her own. “Now, you can dig your keys out of your pocket.”
Relenting, I sighed. “Okay, that’s fine. Thank you, Hazel. I do appreciate the help. It’s been a long day, is all.” I wished I could tell her the truth about the cat, but how could I explain it to anyone else when I didn’t fully understand it myself?
I made my way to the porch with Hazel close on my heels. After glancing through the kitchen window to make sure Rune-the-human wasn’t waiting on the other side, I unlocked the front door, slowly opened it, and looked for some sign of the cat as I walked inside.
Hazel, on the other hand, didn’t hesitate. After shutting the door behind her, she pushed passed me and called, “Here, kitty-kitty-kitty! Come on out, kitty! It’s your friend Auntie Hazel.”
“So, you’re his aunt now?” I stifled a giggle, forgetting for a moment that she might encounter more than a cat waiting for us in my humble abode. If she only knew.
“Of course, silly!” Before I could further respond, she dropped to a squatting position and held her arms out, twitching her index fingers against her thumbs. “Ooh, there’s a good boy. Come on, you big handsome beast. Come to Auntie Hazel.”
Much to my relief, a normal-looking black cat padded into the room and walked over to my friend. As she cooed, he rubbed the top of his head against her outstretched hands.
After several minutes of showering Rune-the-cat with attention, including several tummy rubs resulting in him rolling onto his back and batting the air with his paws, Hazel lamented, “All right, sweet boy. Auntie Hazel needs to get home before Uncle Sven does.”
“Are you heading home to cook him a fabulous meal?”
“After three weeks on
the road, and our little trip last weekend, Sven will be longing for a home-cooked meal. So, you can guess what that means.”
Judging by the twinkle in my friend’s eyes, I guessed, “You’re going to call Chef Bruno at Petite Italie, have him prep two servings of spaghetti and garlic knots, and take it home to plate it on your dishes?”
“Ding-ding-ding, and we have a winner. The trick is to add some Penzey’s California Pepper to the spaghetti, so it tastes different. Last time I did that, Sven told me mine tasted much better than the one from the restaurant.” As she spoke, she straightened her shoulders and beamed. “Do you or Mr. Wonderful here need anything before I leave?”
“We’re all set, thanks. I’m going to change into my pajamas and order some Chinese food.” I hugged my friend, and she was soon out the door, leaving Rune and me alone in the house.
Taking a seat on the floor next to my new roomie, as I’d referred to him, I ran my hand along his side, his silky black fur soft against my palm. He didn’t look like an ordinary housecat, but more like one of those seen in drawings of Egyptian tombs. What did they call them? Sphynx cats? Of course, there was nothing typical about him if what happened earlier wasn’t some crazy hallucination.
Listening to the cat’s non-stop purr was relaxing. I closed my eyes as the tension left the muscles in my neck and shoulders. I now understood why it was rare for most cat owners to stop at having a single pet.
And why so many women preferred having a cat to being married to a guy like Duffy. What was Kimber, his secretary, doing dallying with a married man? Oh, well. Neither had to answer to me, and over the past two years, I had made peace with it, well, as best I could under the circumstances.
Something shifted under my hand, and I touched silk instead of fur. Opening my eyes, I found myself face-to-face with my Irish houseguest.
“Meow?” Rune grinned, and a dimple appeared on his left cheek. The mirth disappeared from his expression when I let out an ear-piercing scream and scooted backward to increase the distance between us.
