“Is it safe to go in there? Listen. I’m going to do a quick card reading for you. I’ll call you right back.”
I started to protest, but she was gone. I called Aunt Ibby and caught her up on what was happening.
“Tell your friend she’s welcome to stay with us as long as she needs to,” she said. “I’ll get a guest room ready and start thinking about dinner.”
Kelly brought her dad over to our table and introduced us. Joe Greene was a good-looking man, probably in his fifties. He wiped big hands on the white apron tied around his trim waist, and we shook hands. His voice was pleasant, and he had an accent much like his daughter’s, but more pronounced. There was something familiar about him, and I felt as though maybe we had met somewhere.
Impossible. I’ve never been to West Virginia.
“Don’t be a stranger now, Ms. Barrett,” he said and waved in the direction of my six students. “I already know this bunch of delinquents will show up most every night.”
“I’ll be back soon,” I promised. “Maybe tomorrow, if the school is still closed.”
“You’re all welcome anytime.”
“We’re going over to school to pick up everybody’s clothes for tomorrow, Pa,” Kelly said. “Be right back.”
“Okay, darlin’. Drive careful, Miss Primrose. You too, Duke.”
I gathered up the notes and paper napkins, folded them carefully, and put them in my handbag.
My class was off to a pretty good, if unorthodox, start.
There was an officer at the Tabby’s front door when we got there. Therese, Kelly, Primrose, and Sammy showed their student IDs, and I produced the plastic-coated instructor’s badge I’d been issued, and we were waved inside. Duke and Thom waited in the parking lot for Sammy.
I knew the girls would take some time to pack their necessities. I headed for my classroom to pick up my laptop. If our off-site meetings were to continue, we’d need it.
My phone buzzed. I hoped the caller was Pete, but once again it was River North.
“Hi, Lee. I read your cards. Want to hear about it?”
“Somehow your cards hardly ever have good news for me, but go ahead.” I sat behind my desk, waiting for River’s reading.
“Okay. Here goes. There’s a moon above your card. Moon Mother is watching over your body, mind, and spirit.”
“Moon Mother?”
“Yes. You need to listen to the voice of your subconscious, Lee. Moon Mother guides the spirit into material manifestation. You understand?”
“Not a word of it, River. But what about the Mother Moon?”
“Moon Mother. Here’s what I think this means. Remember you told me the other day you can’t use your gift anymore? That it’s gone?”
“Right,” I said. “Ariel was causing the visions, and Ariel’s dead. Gone to the light, or wherever witches go.”
“Remember when you used to see things in the shiny shoes when you were little? Then, when you were frightened by the terrible thing you saw, they stopped until you found Ariel’s body?”
“I remember.” She was right. I definitely saw visions in my Sunday school shoes up until I saw the plane crash. Then the visions stopped. “You think I made them stop because I just didn’t want to see them anymore?”
“Exactly. Also, I think Ariel was making you see whatever she wanted you to until her killer was caught. But that’s over now. I think Moon Mother is telling you it is safe for you to use your gift. She guides the spirit into material manifestation. Moves pictures of the past, present, and future into visions you can see and learn from.”
“What if I don’t want to?”
“That’s the beauty of it! You can stop whenever you don’t want to see them anymore.” I could tell that she was excited. “Try it, Lee. Are you near anything shiny now? Black and shiny? Just try.”
I took a deep breath. “Will you stay on the phone with me while I do it?”
“Of course I will. Just do it.”
I spun the chair around until I was facing the toe of that giant black pump behind the desk.
Okay. Show me.
Within seconds, pinpoints of light and swirling colors appeared. A young woman with long dark hair and a flowing white dress moved toward me. She smiled, and in her open left hand she offered two keys.
That’s enough. Now stop.
She turned her back and disappeared.
CHAPTER 10
I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move. I heard River’s voice.
“Lee. Lee? What happened? Are you all right?”
“I . . . I think so. I think it worked, River. I told it to start and stop, and it did.”
“I knew it! I mean, I was pretty sure. Moon Mother is powerful, you know. Want to do it again?”
“No. That was plenty for now. Maybe sometime I’ll try again. Not now.” I turned my chair and faced away from the giant shoe. I heard laughter from my approaching female students. “I have to go. The girls from my class are coming. And, River? Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. Want to call me later and tell me what you saw just now?”
“Later,” I said. “And listen, River, don’t forget to tell me about what it is the witches know about the woman in the attic.”
The laughter and chatter grew closer, and then the three students gathered around my desk.
“We’re finally ready,” Kelly said. “My God. It took Primrose forever to decide which boots to take. You wouldn’t believe how many pairs of shoes she has!”
Primrose shrugged and smiled. “Hey. I love shopping. What can I say?”
“You all right, Ms. Barrett? Lee?” Therese looked concerned. “You’re sort of . . . pale.”
Kelly peered at my face closely. “Yeah. You are. Did you see a ghost?”
The three dissolved into peals of laughter again. It was contagious. I found myself laughing along with them. Not so much because Kelly’s remark was funny, but because maybe I had really just seen a ghost.
“I’m fine,” I said. “Guess my Florida tan is all gone. Did Sammy leave already?”
“Yep.” Kelly shook her head. “How do guys pack so fast?”
Nobody came up with a good answer to that, and we headed for the parking lot, the three of them still giggling and me still trying to figure out what I had just seen in an old shoe department display piece.
Before we reached Primrose’s car, my phone rang again. This time it was Pete.
“Hi, Lee. Where are you?”
“Just leaving the school. Where are you?”
“At the station. I just left there myself a few minutes ago. Sorry I missed you.”
“Me too. Hold on a sec.” I went to the driver’s side window. “Primrose,” I said, “would you mind dropping Kelly and Therese off at the Greenes’ and then coming back here to pick me up?” I pointed to the phone and whispered, “Personal call.”
She gave a knowing wink. “Sure thing. Be right back.”
I stood in the shadow of the Trumbull building, next to the entrance to the new diner. “Pete? You still there?”
“I’m here. What are you doing there? I thought they’d cleared everyone out.”
I explained about the dorm students and how we’d held a class of sorts at Greene’s Tavern. “Pete, what’s happening about the hole? Is that really where Bill Sullivan fell and broke his leg?”
“Looks that way. The body was released to the family this morning, before all this happened. Cause of death was a heart attack, probably brought on by the fall.”
“And the alcohol?”
“None in his stomach at all. Just in his mouth.”
“Then how . . . ?”
“I know. How did he wind up under a tree in the park, smelling of booze? We’re working on that. We have one witness who said she was walking her dog in the area late that night and saw three drunks staggering along, singing Christmas carols.” He sighed. “Now all I have to do is find three drunk singers who might have seen something.”
“I hope yo
u can find out what happened so the Sullivans will have some kind of closure.”
“I hope so.”
“So between what happened to Bill and the hole under the school,” I said, “do you think the place will have to stay closed?”
“I don’t think so. You folks don’t use the basement, anyway, and that’s where our investigation will start,” he said. “And the city fathers are real anxious to keep the school open. There’s some taxpayer investment there, you know.”
“Quite a lot, I imagine,” I said. “Is it true that the tunnels might be undermining the buildings?”
“The city engineer says no. Seems they know all about the tunnels—they’ve been there for over a century. Most of them are blocked off or filled in, but pieces of some of them are still used. He said a steak house over on Derby Square even made part of a tunnel into their wine cellar.”
I remembered what Sammy had said about the mechanical door. “That movable door with the button in the floor hasn’t been there for a century,” I said.
“We’re working on that, too.”
I could almost see his cop face shutting me out. I wasn’t going to get any more information about the case. That was clear. “I guess the Sullivans will let us know about funeral arrangements for Bill,” I said.
“I guess so.” The warmth was back in his voice. “Want to grab a quick supper before I have to go back to work? I miss you.”
“I miss you, too, but I’ve invited one of the dorm students to spend the night at my place. She had no place else to go.”
“Maybe tomorrow, then?”
“I hope so. Talk to you later.”
“You bet. Bye.”
Within a few minutes Primrose pulled up to the curb and beeped her horn. “Hop in, girl,” she ordered. “It’s getting cold again.”
“Sure is,” I said. “We don’t have far to go.” I sat in the passenger seat and gave her directions to Winter Street.
“Wow. Nice house,” she said once we arrived. “Nice street.”
“Thanks,” I said. “It is a pretty street, isn’t it? Let’s drive around back, though, so you can park in the driveway. Don’t want to get you a ticket.”
“I heard you’re dating a cute cop,” she said. “Doesn’t he fix tickets?” She pulled the Camry expertly into the narrow driveway next to the garage.
“I don’t know. Never got one. Come on. I’ll introduce you to my aunt and our cat.” I tucked the laptop under one arm and we hurried along the path to the house. I turned my key in the back door lock.
This key is flat and shiny. The keys in the vision were dark colored and more rounded, with a notch at the end, like old-fashioned skeleton keys.
“Something smells good.” Primrose closed her eyes and sniffed the air. She was right. Something smelled wonderful.
“Did I mention that my aunt is a fabulous cook?” I hung my jacket on a hook in the back hall and motioned for Primrose to do the same. “Bring your bag, and come on into the kitchen and we’ll see what’s cooking.”
Aunt Ibby, wearing a long red- and white-striped apron with KISS THE COOK in black letters, rushed to greet us. “Come in out of the cold, my dears!” She took Primrose’s hand. “Welcome. So you’re one of Maralee’s students. I’m so pleased that you could join us.”
“Aunt Ibby, this is Primrose McDonald. She’s the one who came up with the idea of documenting the history of Trumbull’s for our class project.”
“An excellent idea,” my aunt said. “And Primrose is such a pretty name.”
I peeked into the iron pot simmering on the stove. “Smells great,” I said.
“I didn’t have time for anything fancy. That’s just plain old coq au vin, but I did make a nice batch of double fudge brownies for dessert.”
Primrose smiled and rolled her eyes. “Boy, Lee, are you ever spoiled!”
Aunt Ibby looked pleased. “Maralee, your friend will be staying in the pink guest room, across the hall from yours.” She waved a wooden spoon in Primrose’s direction. “We’re doing some rather major renovations on the third floor, dear, so those rooms aren’t ready yet.”
I led the way upstairs, dropped the laptop off in my room, and then showed Primrose to the guest room. Aunt Ibby called it the pink room with good reason. Pale pink rosebud-sprinkled wallpaper and deep rose draperies complemented the antique mahogany dresser, wardrobe, and four-poster bed in the room, which was usually reserved for female guests. Primrose placed her overnight bag on the seat of a rosy chintz-covered chair and turned around in the center of the room, looking at every detail, with appreciation evident in her wide brown eyes.
Dinner was delicious, as expected, and the dessert of warm double fudge brownies with vanilla ice cream on top was pure heaven. We adjourned to the living room and caught the evening news, which was pretty much a rerun of the morning edition, only this time a film clip of the hole leading to the tunnel wasn’t shown, and the opening of the school, with interviews of each of the ribbon cutters, had more coverage.
“They didn’t show the hole where Bill fell,” Aunt Ibby said. “Why not?”
“Probably because the cops are nosing around down there,” Primrose offered. “Think so, Lee?”
“I think you’re right,” I said. “Pete says their investigation will center on the Tabby’s basement and the park where Bill was found.”
“Pete?” Primrose asked. “Is that the cute cop’s name—”
“Look.” Aunt Ibby pointed at the television screen. “There’s the new city councilor, Mr. Wilson. We had a nice chat this morning. He came here from Washington, D.C., you know. Used to work for the government. He’s quite interested in our downtown development.”
I was glad Aunt Ibby had interrupted. I didn’t want to discuss Pete with Primrose. Fortunately, the blonde had turned her attention to the TV screen and was watching and listening intently to the new city councilor.
“Just ducking out on somebody I didn’t expect to run in to,” she’d said this morning. Is it Councilor Wilson she’s avoiding?
Jonathan Wilson’s remarks were brief and had to do with his appreciation of those who’d made the Tabitha Trumbull Academy of the Arts a reality and his admiration for the beautiful facility itself.
And blah-blah-blah. Typical political speak, which Primrose seems to find oddly interesting.
The next interview was with the superintendent of Salem’s schools, but Primrose was no longer paying attention to the newscast. “Do you know Mr. Wilson personally, Miss Russell?” she asked.
“Oh, no. We just met this morning. But I did vote for him, you know, and I told him so.” Aunt Ibby smiled. “That’s always a good way to get a conversation started with official types.”
“I suppose it is,” Primrose said. “I noticed you chatting with Mr. Pennington, too.”
She nodded. “Yes. I complimented him about pulling everything together. Then he said, ‘Money and adventure and fame. It’s the thrill of a lifetime.’” She smiled. “So I said, ‘Robert Armstrong to Fay Wray in King Kong.’ It was the right answer. I thought he was going to hug me. But instead he invited me to attend a Woody Allen Film Festival.”
My aunt and my boss? Dating?
I was sure my surprise showed. “He did? Are you going?”
She shrugged. “Perhaps. I told him I’d check my calendar and get back to him later.”
Primrose muffled a yawn and stood. “Well, if you two don’t mind, I think I’ll turn in early. It’s been quite a day.”
“It certainly has,” I said. “You go right ahead. I won’t be far behind you. Sleep well.”
“I know I will in such a beautiful room.” Primrose headed up the stairs.
“She seems like a nice person, despite the unusual wardrobe,” Aunt Ibby said. “What’s her background?”
I thought about it for a moment. “I don’t know much about her,” I admitted. “Some sort of amateur acting experience, apparently.”
“Amateur, hmm?” My aunt looked skeptical
.
“I talked to River today,” I said, changing the subject and wondering just how much I should tell my aunt about what I’d learned about using my gift.
“I saw her this morning. We watched the ribbon-cutting ceremony together.”
“I know. I talked to her later.” I took a deep breath. “River was worried about me, so she read my cards.”
She frowned. “That doesn’t often work out well for you.”
“I know. But she told me about Moon Mother, who, she says, tells me it’s safe to use my gazing ability. That I can turn it on and off at will, now that Ariel’s gone.”
There was a long pause. She turned the TV off, and the room was eerily silent.
“And do you believe it?” Her voice was disapproving.
“I’m afraid I have to.”
“Why do you say that? You don’t have to do any such thing!”
“I believe it,” I said, speaking softly. “Because I tried it. And it worked.”
She leaned forward, looking into my eyes. “You turned it on?”
I nodded. “Yes.”
“And you were actually able to turn it off ?”
“Yes.”
She covered her face with her hands for a moment and then folded them in her lap. Her eyes were moist. “I had hoped after that thing—whatever it is—came back that you’d be able to make it stop again.”
“Again?”
“Yes. After you saw what you saw in your shoes when you were a little girl, you made it stop somehow.”
“That’s true. But I’ve never known how. Or why.”
“If you can actually control it now, that’s a good thing. That means you don’t ever have to do it again, doesn’t it?” She took my hands in hers. “Doesn’t it? You don’t want to do it anymore, do you?”
“I’m not sure. I saw . . . something before I made it stop.”
“Oh, dear. Do you want to tell me what you saw?”
I tried to describe what I’d seen in the toe of the giant shoe. “I saw a woman. She was young, with long dark hair. She wore a white gown of some kind. She held her hand out toward me and showed me two old-fashioned keys before I made her go away.”
Tails, You Lose (A Witch City Mystery Book 2) Page 7
