Tails, You Lose (A Witch City Mystery Book 2)

by Carol J. Perry

  “Ms. Barrett! Fabulous news!” I looked up, surprised to see Mr. Pennington hurrying into the classroom.

  “That’s always good to hear,” I said, hoping it was about Thom. “What news is that?”

  “I just got a telephone call from Bruce Doan,” he said. “He’s the manager of WICH-TV, you know.”

  “Yes. I know.”

  “He’s interested in producing a TV show right here at the Tabitha Trumbull Academy.”

  That pronouncement grabbed everyone’s attention. Books snapped shut. Cameras stopped mid-frame. Voices and sniffles ceased. Rupert Pennington had center stage.

  “We are going to—if you all agree to participate, that is—host an entire coven of our brothers and sisters of the Wiccan persuasion, witches, that is, as they attempt to contact a spirit, ghost, that is, on the top floor of this very building.” A dramatic pause followed. “And the entire episode will be filmed for the viewing pleasure of millions.”

  Everyone spoke at once.

  “When?”

  “Will we be in it?”

  “Real witches?”

  Mr. Pennington held up his hands. “I’ll present all the details later,” he said, glancing at the clock. “You are all dismissed. Ms. Barrett, will you come with me?”

  I picked up my purse and followed him to the elevator. “This could put the Tabitha Trumbull Academy on the theatrical map,” he said. “Such a production might even draw a national audience, according to Mr. Doan. Think of it, Ms. Barrett!”

  I was thinking of it. What if they did actually contact the long-dead Tabitha? Would I find out at last what it was she wanted from me? What the two keys meant?

  “Sit down, Ms. Barrett,” he said. “Be at ease, and tell me what you think of Mr. Doan’s idea.”

  River North’s idea.

  “A TV show about a coven of witches gathering here at the Tabby would certainly bring attention to the school,” I said truthfully. “And it is the type of TV people seem to enjoy.”

  “I’m glad you agree,” he said. “So we’ll proceed with it?”

  “Won’t you have to check with the city? They may not want that type of attention.”

  “You’re correct, of course. I’ll call Councilman Wilson first thing tomorrow and get his input. But I’m sure we’re doing the right thing.”

  “I hope so.”

  “Be always sure you’re right—then go ahead.” He followed the words with the expectant look I’d seen before.

  “Movie quote?” I asked.

  “I admit, it’s a bit obscure. Davy Crockett, King of the Wild Frontier. Fess Parker. 1955. Even your dear aunt might have missed that one.”

  CHAPTER 25

  Skipping the elevator, I hurried down the stairs to the diner and my appointment with Primrose. She was already there, sitting alone in a booth, with enough books and papers spread over the surface of the table to discourage anyone from sharing the space. She looked up as I approached, and swept the papers aside.

  “Hi, Lee. Sit. I’ll try to explain.”

  “I don’t want to pry into your business, Primrose,” I said. “You don’t owe me any explanations.”

  But I sure am curious.

  “Well, here it is in a nutshell, Lee. Jonathan and I have met before.”

  “I figured that might be the case the first time I saw you together.”

  She frowned. “The first time? You mean you’ve seen us together before today? When?”

  “The morning after you spent the night at our place. Pete and I had breakfast at the same restaurant you two did,” I said. “We sat in the booth right in front of yours.”

  She smiled. “Damned high-backed booths. Could you hear what we were talking about?”

  “Nope. Too noisy for that.”

  “Okay. Here goes. We met years ago in Washington, D.C. We both had State Department jobs. Mine was a much lower level than his. Minimum security clearance. A glorified file clerk, that’s what I was. Anyway, we had kind of a thing going on.” She shrugged. “Kind of a big thing, actually.”

  “I understand. That happens.”

  “I didn’t look like this then,” she said, looking down at her skimpy outfit. “Anyway, he was married. Still is.”

  “Uh-oh.”

  “Yeah, uh-oh is right. We decided we should break it off. And we did. Honest to God, Lee, I about fainted when I saw him at the Tabby on opening day. That’s why I beat it out of there so fast.”

  “I wondered about that,” I said.

  “I had to duck out before he had a chance to recognize me. Blow my cover.”

  “Your cover? What kind of cover?”

  “I can’t explain it entirely. I work for the government. I’m here on an assignment.” She raised both hands in a gesture of helplessness. “I can’t tell you much more than that.”

  “Is Primrose McDonald your real name?”

  That brought a smile to her face. “No, it isn’t. And blond isn’t my real hair color.”

  “So you contacted Wilson and told him . . . what?”

  “The truth about why I’m here. It’s a big coincidence that we both wound up in the same place again.”

  River doesn’t believe in coincidences.

  “You seemed annoyed when he suggested that the class get involved with that old map he showed us.”

  “I was,” she said. “I don’t know anything about that map, but I thought it was dumb to involve us in city business. He explained it to me, but I still don’t like it.”

  “I guess you’re not going to tell me about that, either, are you?”

  “Can’t. But don’t worry about it too much. It’ll probably work out fine.”

  “Primrose,” I said, “is it all right with you if I tell Pete what you’ve told me? He’s already been checking on your background. Seems you have none.”

  “I know. We didn’t have a lot of time to set this up. I was happily looking at flower seeds in an Ace Hardware store in New York’s beautiful Hudson Valley when the call came. Next thing I knew, I was on a plane, heading for Massachusetts, with four suitcases full of miniskirts, hair dye, great shoes, and push-up bras.”

  I had to smile. “Flower seeds. Is that where Primrose came from?”

  She nodded. “Right across the street from a McDonald’s. They were in a hurry to get going on my fake ID. I guess it might be okay for Pete to know about this so he’ll stop digging into it. I’ll ask Friedrich to fill Pete in.”

  “Friedrich?” That surprised me. “He’s part of this, too?”

  “Oh yeah. I’m kind of on loan to the Treasury.” She gathered her scattered papers and books and tucked them into a backpack. “Please don’t ask any more questions. I may have talked too much already. Let’s get that coffee now, okay?”

  And that was that. She signaled to the waitress. We ordered our coffees, and the conversation became a normal chat between student and teacher.

  I had a lot on my mind when I drove home from the Tabby. I pulled into the garage and hurried through the backyard to the house.

  “Aunt Ibby, I’m home,” I called. I bent to pat O’Ryan and was treated to a welcoming “mrrow.”

  My aunt answered from the kitchen. “Hello, Maralee. Come right on in, dear. I’ve made your dinner, and it’s in the warming oven.”

  “Thanks,” I said, shedding boots and coat and entering the warm, fragrant room. “You look lovely. You going out?”

  She patted “fresh from the beauty shop” hair and did a graceful turn, flaring the skirt of her soft green, long-sleeved dress. “You like it? It’s new. I have a date.”

  “It’s perfect.” I knew without asking who her date was, but I asked, anyway. “Who’s the lucky guy?”

  “It’s Rupert,” she said, blushing just a tiny bit. “We’re going to a special screening of My Dinner with Andre. It’s one of my favorites, and Rupert was an extra in that film—a patron in the restaurant scene.”

  “Sounds like fun,” I said, attempting enthusiasm. “When is
he picking you up?”

  She consulted the tiny gold wristwatch with real diamonds marking the twelve and the six. I remembered it from my earliest childhood. She wore it only on very special occasions. “Any minute now,” she said. “You don’t mind being alone, do you?”

  “Of course not. O’Ryan is here. You run along and have a good time.” I laughed. “Oh, Aunt Ibby, I sound like you, talking to me!”

  “Yes, you do. I’ve taught you well. Look, there goes O’Ryan, heading for the front door.” She picked up her purse and followed the cat. “Rupert must be here already.”

  I brought up the rear of the parade, then joined O’Ryan at one of the long windows beside the door. My aunt was right. Rupert Pennington stood on the brightly lit landing, smiling, impeccably dressed, pressing the doorbell.

  I reached for the doorknob, but Aunt Ibby held up a finger. “Wait a second.” She shrugged into her beige cashmere coat. “Let it ring once more. I don’t want to appear anxious.”

  O’Ryan, apparently not interested in Aunt Ibby’s gentleman caller, gave a little sniff and strolled back toward the kitchen.

  I gave her a hug, let the bell chime one more time, opened the door, and wished them both a pleasant evening. Resisting the strong temptation to add, “I’ll wait up for you, Isobel,” I watched as he took her arm and helped her down the stairs, pretty much the same way Pete liked to help me.

  I had picked up my purse and was headed up to my room when my cell phone buzzed. Duke Martin’s name popped up. Surprised, and with the missing Thom still on my mind, I said, “Duke? Is everything okay?”

  “Oh, sure,” he said. “I’m fine. Listen, Lee, I’m here at the bar, still filling in for Thom, and I got to thinking about that map. The one Mr. Wilson showed us.”

  “Yes, Duke. What about it?”

  “Well, when I was looking at it, I knew it reminded me of something I’d seen before,” he said. “Something recent.”

  “What was that, Duke?”

  “The maps of the Boston subway system,” he said. “I’m not sayin’ that’s what it is. But I think it’s a map of something like that. Something underground.”

  “The tunnels,” I said, knowing that he was right. “It’s a map of tunnels under Salem.”

  “Yep,” he said. “I reckon.”

  “I think you’re right, Duke. Have you called Mr. Wilson yet?”

  “Nope. Wanted to run it by you first.”

  “I think he’d want to hear your idea. It’s not too late to call him now,” I said. “Go for it.”

  “I will. Thanks, Ms. Barrett,” he said. “I’m going to call him as soon as I get a break. We’re busy tonight.”

  “Duke, is Primrose there?” I asked.

  “Sure is. Want to talk to her?”

  I sat on the bottom step and fished a pen and an index card from my purse. “Yes, please,” I said. “She has a couple of phone numbers she offered to share with me.”

  “Okay. Hang on.” I could hear music and muted conversation while Duke managed the phone handoff, and then Primrose answered.

  “Hi, Lee,” she said. “What’s going on?”

  “I forgot to ask for the phone numbers of those models you know in the city,” I said. “I think I’ll give them a call and see if either one has heard from Thom.”

  “Sure.” She repeated the 212 area code numbers and I jotted them down on the card. “I’ve called them both and left messages on their voice mails so they’ll know we’re trying to track Thom down,” she said, “and I left word that you might call. Maybe you’ll have better luck.”

  “I hope so,” I said. “Are the others there tonight?”

  “Kelly and Duke are working, and Sammy and Therese are glued to the keno game. Why don’t you drive those fancy wheels over here and keep me company ?”

  I laughed. “That’s tempting,” I said. “But I haven’t even changed my clothes yet. I just want to put on sweats and sneakers and play couch potato with my cat.”

  “Sounds boring,” she said. “See you at school.”

  I did exactly what I’d told her I wanted to do. Before long, comfortably dressed and shod, I leaned against plumped-up couch cushions and put my feet on an ottoman, while O’Ryan paced back and forth along the back of the couch.

  “Come on, cat. Settle down,” I said. “We have things to do.”

  I called the first number on the index card and got the same response Primrose had. Voice mail. The perky voice announced that Tasha was on a shoot and that I should leave my name and number and a brief message and she would get back to me soon. I did as she asked, and hoped that she would.

  I called the second number, and the phone rang for such a long time, I assumed that the voice mail was full. I was about to hang up when a tiny click told me that someone in New York City had picked up the phone.

  “Hello?” I said. “Hello? Is anybody there?”

  Long pause. Then a hesitant voice. “Ms. Barrett? Is that you?”

  “Thom?”

  “Yes. It’s me. I recognized your number.”

  “Thom, what in the world is going on? Everyone here is worried sick about you.” Relief, all mixed up with anger, flooded over me. “Are you all right? What are you doing there?”

  “Tasha and Mira are on a shoot in Barbados. Mira said I could stay here and watch her cat,” he said.

  “That’s fine, Thom,” I said, trying to speak calmly. “But what I meant was, why did you run off like that without telling anyone? Your poor mother must be going crazy, and Kelly is close to tears all the time.”

  “I had to get away from there.” His voice broke. “I’m sorry if everyone is worried. I couldn’t stay there, knowing . . . knowing what I know.”

  “I don’t understand,” I said. “What is it you think you know?”

  “That poor man. He didn’t walk to the park by himself that night.”

  “That’s what the police think,” I said.

  “Huh.” He made a short, unfunny laughing sound. “The police think they know everything. But they don’t.”

  I tried for a normal tone. “Would you like to tell me about it, Thom? Maybe I can help somehow.”

  “No. I’ll never tell anyone. I promised, so I can’t tell. But I went to his funeral, Lee. I heard his wife crying.” Thom’s voice dropped to a whisper. “It was terrible.”

  “I know, Thom,” I said. “I was there. I knew you were sad, and I tried to find you afterward, but you were gone.”

  “I ran away,” he said, his voice becoming stronger. “And I’m not coming back. Will you give my mother a message? And Kelly, too? Just tell them I’m fine. Not to worry.”

  “Of course I will. But please listen to me. This isn’t a good way to handle things. Would you like to talk to Pete about what it is you think you know about Bill getting to the park that night?”

  “No. No police.” He was almost shouting. “I shouldn’t have talked to you, Lee. I thought you might understand, but you don’t. No one does.”

  I tried to speak soothing words, to tell him that everything could be worked out. But I was talking to dead air. He’d hung up.

  “I have to call Pete,” I said aloud. “And Thom’s mother. And Kelly.”

  O’Ryan had stopped his pacing and now sat on the ottoman, where I’d put the phone and the index card with the telephone numbers on it. He put a big paw on the card and flipped it onto the floor. There was writing on the back. The card I’d pulled at random from the stack in my purse read, Who are the three drunks singing Christmas carols?

  “Is that what you think Thom knows about?” I asked the cat. “Does he know who they are?”

  He cocked his head to one side, blinked a couple of times, then curled up on the cushion beside me and closed his eyes.

  “Never mind,” I said. “I’ll call Pete and tell him what Thom said. He’ll know what to do.”

  I retrieved the phone and punched in Pete’s number, shaking my head when I realized that I’d been speaking aloud to a c
at and, worse than that, halfway expecting an answer. Pete answered after a couple of rings.

  “Hi, Lee. What’s up?”

  “I’ve located Thom,” I told him. “He’s in New York, staying in an apartment that belongs to one of Primrose’s friends.”

  “That’s great,” he said. “Good work. How did you find him?”

  I told him about Primrose’s model friends and how Thom was cat sitting for one of them. “He answered the phone because he recognized my number,” I said. “And he wants me to tell his mom and Kelly that he’s okay, and I told him I would, but, Pete, there’s more. He ran away because he knows something about what happened to Bill Sullivan on Christmas night.”

  “He saw something?” I heard Pete’s voice change into cop mode. “Exactly what did he say?”

  I repeated what Thom had said about Bill not walking to the park by himself. “I told him that the police already knew that, and he laughed and said the police don’t know everything. I asked if he’d like to talk to you, and he said he’d never tell anybody what he knew, because he’d promised.”

  “Promised who?”

  “I don’t know. I tried to tell him it would all work out, but he hung up on me. I probably didn’t handle it right.”

  “You did fine, Lee. Do you know where Thom is now?”

  “Just that he’s in an apartment in the city that belongs to a model named Mira, who’s on a shoot in Barbados.” O’Ryan opened his eyes. “And she has a cat.” He closed them again.

  “Good. Do you have Mira’s last name?”

  “Primrose probably does. She gave me the number.”

  “Do you know if Primrose is at the dorm?”

  “No,” I said. “She’s at Greene’s with the rest of the gang.”

  “Okay. I’m still on duty, so I can’t pick you up. Want to meet me over there? You can tell Kelly and the others that Thom’s safe, and I can see what else Primrose knows.”

  “See you at Greene’s,” I told him. I changed my clothes, promised the cat I’d be back soon, and left a note for Aunt Ibby in case she beat me home.

  The parking lot at the tavern was almost full. I looked around for Pete’s unmarked Crown Vic but didn’t see it. After pulling the Corvette into a space partially illuminated by a streetlight, I locked her up and, after one backward admiring glance, climbed the few steps to the bar’s front door.