Bloodstone (A Stacy Justice Mystery)

by Barbra Annino

  I silently cursed the gods for appointing me Counselor of Loose Women.

  If Cinnamon could hear what I was about to say she would kick me. Hard. “Have you ever tried, I don’t know...being nice to people?”

  Monique narrowed her eyes at me. “I’m nice. I’m just misunderstood.”

  The only reason I continued was because I was still wiping off. “Let’s pretend that’s true. How about not trying to hump every man you come in contact with? Some women hate that.”

  She seemed to be considering it for a moment. Her eyebrows wrinkled together like she just ate a lemon and I guessed that option held no appeal, but I gave her credit for mulling it over. I walked to the trashcan and discarded more soiled towels.

  Monique risked a smile when I circled back around and for a split second, I was horrified she might hug me. Then the smile fell off her face as she looked past me to the entrance.

  “Well, if it isn’t the Wicked Bitch of the Midwest,” Monique said to Cinnamon.

  I squeezed her hand and whispered, “You see, that’s what I am talking about. Here’s your chance to be nice. Be the bigger person.” I nudged her forward and the two women faced each other.

  Cinnamon shot me a confused look. Her black hair and dark eyes seemed to deepen a shade as she stared down her nemesis. “And who the fuck are you supposed to be? Trailer Trash Barbie?”

  So much for playing nice.

  Monique’s hands were at her sides, her fists clenched into tiny balls that were growing ever more white by the second. I cleared my throat to encourage her.

  In a strained voice she said, “Ha, ha, ha. That’s a good one, Cinnamon.” Then she looked back at me and I nodded.

  Even without the four-inch heels, Monique was a few inches taller than my cousin but something about Cinnamon’s strength and muscular physique seemed to overshadow the blond bartender.

  Cinnamon was trying to grasp just what the hell was happening here. She fumbled with the fray of her ripped jeans and straightened the skull on her beaded tee shirt. “Okay.” She glanced around, clearly searching for a hidden camera.

  I tapped Monique and she asked in a crackly voice, “Did you have a nice trip?”

  Cin looked at her, her left eye twitching ever so slightly and said, “It was lovely. Thank you for asking.”

  The two of them stood there, gazing everywhere but at each other.

  Finally, after what seemed like hours, and me with a lopsided grin on my face because I was hoping upon hope that perhaps the days of me getting sucker-punched for stepping between the two of them, were over.

  Monique spoke first.

  She shifted her stance toward me. “I tried, Justice, I really did but I still want to fold her up and stuff her down the garbage shoot.”

  “And I still want to pop one of her implants and watch her fly around the room.” Cin turned to Monique and said, “Did she put you up to this?”

  Monique said, “Yeah, can you believe it?”

  Then they both turned on me and the chattering got so loud, I hardly heard the cries.

  “Quiet!” I said. “Do you hear that?”

  “Oh, that’s just Scully,” Cin said. “He’s upset about losing some friend. That’s why I’m here, actually.” She looked from me to Monique. “Do either of you know anyone named Ivy?”

  FORTY-EIGHT

  Monique and I both rushed into the back room. The door was wide open and neither Thor nor Ivy was in sight.

  “When did you see her last?” I asked Monique.

  “Um, uh...” she stuttered.

  I grabbed her shoulders, shook her. “Think!”

  “It was when I texted you!”

  I fished out my phone, checked the time of the last text message. 1:30. I had left the news office at 1:45.

  I noticed I had two missed calls from Leo and one from Birdie.

  Then, a text from Birdie.

  Malevolence is all around you. I sense a cataclysmic event. Heed the signs and get to the house as soon as you can. Be smart, Be safe, Be one.

  Where had I heard that before?

  Monique was still talking. “She was driving me nuts, so I went to organize the store room.” She bit her lip and looked me in the eye as she said, “Scully was with her, Stacy. I swear, I didn’t think it would be a big deal.”

  Scully wasn’t here now, but when had he left? Before I arrived or had he slipped out the back door while we were still fixing the drapery? Just when that thought passed through my head, a vision pierced my mind, blinded me.

  Ivy scribbling in her notebook, red hair covering her face. Backpack on the seat next to her. Right here in this room. Then, more red and then...not a damn thing.

  But, wait a minute...who would be sending it to me? I only received visions from the dead. Unless...NO. I refused to consider the possibility.

  My eyes swam into focus as I searched for the backpack. Gone. Behind me, Cin was asking who Ivy was.

  Her question went unanswered as Monique explained that when she had taken out the trash, Ivy was teasing her about looking like a blow-up doll you might win at a carnival. That was when she ducked into the storeroom.

  I ran outside, called for Thor. Looked both ways down the alley. Nothing but dumpsters, cigarette butts, and stray gum wrappers. It smelled like rotten meat, stale beer—and fear.

  Probably radiating off my skin.

  I jogged a car length in both directions, but no sign of Ivy.

  Then Thor appeared from behind a huge green dumpster, the lid ajar because someone had overfilled it with a torn up armchair.

  Ivy’s backpack dangled from his mouth.

  I froze and a sound like a hiccup escaped from Monique.

  I raced to where Thor had come from and saw nothing more.

  He gently released the backpack into my outstretched hands and my legs could not move fast enough.

  I talked as I walked. “You said Scully was out front?” I asked Cinnamon.

  She held her questions for the moment. I could only guess she sensed my anxiety. After all, she had Geraghty blood in her veins too, although from her father’s side. The gifts are only passed on from mother to daughter, but she had a keen sense of intuition regardless.

  “That’s where I left him.”

  The three of us hurried to the front of the building, Thor trailing behind as I rifled through Ivy’s bag on the way.

  A few bills. Clothes. Her phone. A couple of gemstones. That green notebook she carted everywhere and three pens.

  I stopped to unzip the dozen zippers on the damn thing and filtered through them quickly. No article.

  No message.

  Shit!

  Outside, Scully had made his way over to the Black Opal. Two customers approached Down and Dirty so Monique gave a tiny wave, slapped Thor on the rear to encourage the dog to move out of her path and turned to head back inside. Before she made it, Thor shook his giant head and tossed a big glob of snot onto her shorts. She hesitated, but didn’t turn around and the curtain closed on the loogie. Then I noticed the ‘customers’ were the Jehovah’s Witnesses from this morning. They waved and I returned the gesture. I almost felt sorry for Monique.

  Scully was leaning against the brick looking up and down the street. He was sipping on a can of Old Style, not bothering to hide it even though open liquor is neither legal, nor encouraged in Amethyst.

  I had never seen Scully show any emotion other than thirsty. So when he dabbed his eyes with his sleeves, my heart lurched.

  “Come on, Scully. Let’s get you inside,” I said.

  The remodel was spectacular, but I had no time to explore it. I just noticed the sophisticated blue walls, the smart, sturdy circular bar and the sparkling glass shelves. I told Cinnamon it was beautiful and she smiled.

  I wasn’t sure if Scully’s shriveled hand was shaking because he needed a cocktail or because he was afraid. Cin helped him onto a stool and he had the decency to disapprove, which sent a wave of calm to me.

  Scully lik
ed his stool, which was still at Monique’s place for now. He took a long pull from the beer and sighed. Then, ever so slightly, he reached into his pocket and I held my breath. I felt my cousin’s eyes bearing down on me.

  It was a piece of paper folded into a tight square. He placed it on the bar top, stared into the mirror behind the bottles.

  “Went to take a leak. Found this in the back room after.”

  He hadn’t read it. It was crisp and clean and never unfolded.

  But it said, DO NOT play games with me or the kid gets it on the outside.

  “Scully,” I said. “Just lock up when you leave.”

  “Excuse me?” Cinnamon demanded. “Are you out of your mind?”

  I leaned in and said to him, “Don’t worry. We’ll find her.”

  To Cinnamon, I said firmly, “Call Tony if you want him to watch the bar, but meet me outside in two minutes.” Cinnamon’s husband, Tony, owned an auto repair shop on the edge of town. Since Cinnamon had a thing for muscle cars and muscle men, it was love at first sight.

  Inside Chance’s truck, with the heater running and Thor sprawled on the back bench, I unfolded the corners of the note.

  THE BOOK FOR THE GIRL. YOUR CHOICE. WILL CONTACT FOR EXCHANGE.

  In that moment two things occurred to me. One, was that in spite of everything the kid had put me through the past few days, I had grown to love Ivy.

  The other was—if the kidnapper was referring to the Blessed Book, I didn’t have a clue where it was.

  FORTY-NINE

  I rummaged through Ivy’s backpack again as I waited for Cinnamon. The notebook was on top so I pulled that out and flipped through the pages. The note left by our mother slipped out and I read it again.

  And there it was.

  Be Smart. Be Safe. Be One. Same as Birdie texted.

  What did it mean?

  Still, the article she had left for Ivy to discover was nowhere to be found, nor could I find on any of the pages the decoded message. Hopefully, Chance had copied it down.

  I texted him to please meet me at the Geraghty House.

  Cinnamon climbed into the truck then, handed me a cup of coffee and demanded to know what was going on, so I filled her in on the whole mess as I drove up the hill to the bed and breakfast. It was a short trip and she was firing questions at me left and right which took my focus off the road for just a split second.

  Here’s a safety tip. If you ever find a Voodoo doll with your name on it, while a dead man is roaming the streets and your long-lost sister just got kidnapped by Heaven knows who, pass the keys to someone with a steadier hand.

  She just appeared in the middle of the road and I swerved to avoid her, promptly smashing Chance’s truck into a tree.

  My body jerked forward and hot coffee splattered across my turtleneck. Then we came to an abrupt halt. I wasn’t driving that fast, thankfully. Cin and I looked each other over and then I unhooked my seatbelt to check on Thor. Everyone seemed to be okay.

  Cinnamon looked at me like a snake just crawled out of my head.

  “What was that?” she said.

  “I didn’t want to hit her.” Crap. Chance was going to kill me. He loved this truck. Maybe he wouldn’t notice.

  “Who?”

  “The white deer. Didn’t you see her?” I peered across the woods, but she must have fled.

  Cin said she hadn’t seen a thing. We were only a couple blocks from the house so we all climbed out and started walking. I finished telling Cinnamon the rest of the story.

  She had a funny look on her face when she asked, “So Parker didn’t actually get hit?”

  I wrinkled my brow. “That’s your question? I just revealed that you may have another cousin and one of Birdie’s guests took a header into the kitchen table and that’s the question you have?”

  “Oh, I have more, but hear me out. Parker didn’t get clocked. He said he fainted. That’s odd enough, but then he also had a key to your office.”

  “He has a key to every office.” I looked at her. “You don’t think...” I shook my head. “No, no way. Why would he trash my office? And how could he have hit Derek without Derek knowing it?”

  “Brings me to point two. Didn’t Derek say once he had an aunt who practiced Voodoo? Remember, when we were visiting that kid in the hospital to find out about the fire?”

  He had said that then, and he just reiterated it to me an hour ago. This, I told Cin.

  I stopped walking and Thor took the opportunity to scratch his neck. His tiger’s eye was still in my pocket, so nothing jingled beneath the force of his huge paw. I took it out, put the third penny inside and went to clip it onto his collar.

  Just then, pictures of the white deer flashed in my mind, rapidly, alternating between images of a woman who looked a lot like Fiona, but with longer hair and a gauzy white gown not of this time. I had to bend over to steady my body. Only then did Maegan speak, her voice a soft symphony in my ears.

  There are three only, whose calling is a benefit to their people: The Warrior on the field of battle, the Guardian of sacred truth and the Seeker of Justice wherever she may be.

  The voice faded and I stood.

  Cin was looking at me with concern and Thor trotted over, stood next to me and I placed my hand on his back for balance.

  That seemed important, so I took out Ivy’s notebook, flipped to the last page and jotted down, Guardian, Warrior. I had a pretty good idea who the Seeker of Justice was.

  Then a wind grabbed the pages, flipping them backwards, landing on Ivy’s last entry.

  I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. “Son of a sockcucker,” I said.

  “What is it?” Cinnamon asked.

  “Apparently there is a Warrior among us,” I told her, glancing over Ivy’s signature.

  So then, who was the Guardian?

  Cin and I kept hashing out the events that had transpired in her absence and I was grateful, finally, to have someone to talk to about it. I wasn’t especially looking forward to spilling my guts to Birdie, but it had to be done. I wasn’t about to screw around with the wackjob who had apparently killed a guy in my grandmother’s kitchen, left me a Voodoo doll with a cryptic message and then hijacked my sister. Enough was enough. He or she would get the damn book if it was so important. Surely, I would get another message instructing me on where to make the exchange.

  Afterwards, maybe I could find my mother. Our mother.

  Then a thought occurred to me. Was she the Guardian? And if so—what was she guarding?

  FIFTY

  I was thinking about the questions I still had for Birdie as we rounded the corner. Rushing out to the police station when she could have easily waited for the cops to come to the house? That one still had me scratching my head. Then just taking off and leaving me there. Why?

  Actually, that was probably some form of punishment, I was certain. She must have known I had lied, must have sensed I had never left town, but did she know why? Did she know about Ivy?

  I spotted Leo’s cruiser in the driveway. No other cars, thank Goddess. The guests were probably running around town, tracking down clues for that murder mystery event this evening. Boy was I glad I didn’t get roped into helping with that, seeing as how I had my own unsolved mysteries to contend with.

  I took the steps slowly in a vain attempt to postpone the inevitable. The air was stagnant this afternoon. Not chilly anymore, no scent of blossoms or herbs, just damp Earth.

  I took a deep breath, twisted the handle, but the door was locked.

  Just what I needed.

  I cranked the old fashioned bell and pressed the doorbell that chimed in the private quarters just to be safe.

  We stood there a few seconds, waiting for someone to answer and I suddenly felt bad Cinnamon had to come home to this situation. “I hope you took lots of pictures. I want to hear all about your trip when...you know,” I said.

  She just rolled her eyes.

  Then I realized the locket was still in my hand. I clipped the
tiger’s eye back on Thor’s collar.

  A moment later, Fiona answered the door and I whispered a small thank-you to the gods that it wasn’t Lolly.

  She wore a smart black suit and a stern look on her face. Thor hopped and wiggled all around her, kissing her hand.

  “That’s a good boy,” she said, scratching his ear. She handed him a giant bone. “You’ve done well. Go lie down for a while.”

  That reminded me. Didn’t I hear Chance mention something about a cat as I left his house?

  “Fiona, have you seen Moonlight? Not to mention all my stuff?”

  Her face was stone as she said, “Moonlight had another calling.”

  That was all she said and it made me shiver. I didn’t ask what she meant by “another calling”.

  Cinnamon and I exchanged an uneasy glance and my stomach didn’t just have butterflies. There were sparrows flying around inside, dive-bombing a worm farm.

  Fiona spun on one foot and walked straight ahead. We followed.

  Nervous did not even cover how my body felt on that long walk down the corridor. I sensed Cin felt it too. Like tiny ants crawling all over my skin. Something was happening. Something—not good.

  The house was quiet. I saw no guests anywhere and I wondered if they had checked out with all the commotion. Or had been forced to find other accommodations.

  Just as we approached the kitchen, I smelled the faint scent of an herb I could not identify. Hemlock? Hell, I hoped not. Hemlock is very powerful, but extremely dangerous.

  Lolly was at the apothecary table, dipping a gloved hand into a steaming bowl of liquid. On the table before her, laid out in shiny variations of length, cut and adornment, were a collection of ritual blades. She was dipping one hand into the potion and holding a sword with the other as she swiped the concoction across it in swift strokes.