“Great chocolate,” he said and choked down another one.
“Good. Then let’s get started.” Olivia brought out her smartphone and placed it on the table, then grabbed the journal and flipped it open. She shifted the phone closer and picked out a letter to compare.
Her heart sank.
“No match. She didn’t send the threatening letter to her son,” Olivia said.
“Of course she didn’t,” Jake replied. “Why would she send a note and incriminate herself when she could threaten him face to face in private, in her own home?”
Olivia had hoped it would be simple. That she’d turn over the journal to Detective Keane and—
“Even if the handwriting had been a match, it wouldn’t have been permissible in court. You stole it. There isn’t a prosecutor who would touch evidence like that,” Jake said and pinched the bridge of his nose. “And that means there wasn’t a point to you taking this journal.”
“Don’t say that yet,” Olivia replied.
She flipped through the pages of the journal and scanned them. Recipes, complaints about one of the butlers and her husband’s lack of attention. And then, something else. A tidbit about Mr. Walter.
“Listen to this,” Olivia said, and ran her finger beneath the line of text. “I think it’s time we go through with it. I can’t wait anymore. I’ve done my duty to this family and to my son. I have to follow my heart.”
“What do you think that means?” Jake asked.
Olivia shrugged, and continued, “Walter has become impatient. He can’t stand the fact that I’m staying, even though we’re in love. We’re meant to be together, he says. I didn’t believe it at first, but the more we spend time together, the more I realize that this is all real. It’s real.”
The entry trailed off after that. A few meanderings about daily life and a sign-off with a promise to write more. The sentiment had been written a week before her son’s death, and there weren’t any entries after it.
“It looks like she hasn’t written since she lost Jason,” Olivia said.
“That makes sense. It’s probably difficult for her to deal with the grief.”
That gave Olivia some time to put the journal back. Or at least in the mailbox. She hadn’t figured out the logistics yet. She picked up her cell and snapped a pic of it, then slipped both the journal and the phone back into her handbag.
“Olivia, you can’t keep doing things like this. I know what’s happening is tough on you, but Sebastian is a big boy. He can look after himself. Everything is going to work out—”
A siren whooped outside, and a police car pulled up in front of the store, lights flashing. Detective Keane emerged, gripping a piece of paper in one hand, his other on the holster of his gun.
Olivia met Jake’s gaze. “You were saying?”
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Uh oh,” Jake said and pushed his chair back.
Understatement of the century. Detective Keane knocked on the front door, three loud bangs which elicited a bark from Dodger upstairs. Either he’d come to arrest Olivia for filching the journal, or this was about something much worse.
She rose from her seat and hurried to the door. She unlocked and then opened it, nerves burning a hole through her gut. She’d thought a date with Jake had made her nervous—this made that look like a walk in the park on summer’s day.
“Ms. Cloud,” Detective Keane said in a low growl.
“Detective Keane. How may I help you?”
The lights of the police vehicle clicked and flashed. Luckily, this wasn’t a suburban area. The only other folks who lived above the stores here were Mrs. Gruber across the road and Danny Joseph down the street.
The blinds in the window of Mrs. Gruber’s home twitched open. Oh boy, so much for that idea. This would be all over Chester in the next hour.
Keane cleared his throat, and Olivia focused on him again.
“I’ve got a warrant to search these premises,” he said, “on the grounds that you’re concealing a person of interest.”
“Who?”
“Don’t play dumb, Ms. Cloud,” Keane said. He’d never had much patience with her. “Sebastian Cloud. I have a warrant for his arrest.”
“The last I heard Sebastian was staying with a friend, Kerry Walter.”
“He hasn’t been there since last night, according to Mr. Walter. We’ve already searched his home,” Keane replied.
Olivia’s nerves intensified. She was too late to save her son from whatever had happened. And it would look even worse now that he’d disappeared.
“I’m sorry,” Olivia said, and stepped back so that the officer could enter. She couldn’t stop him if he had a warrant, and she had nothing to hide, apart from the journal in her handbag. “I haven’t seen Sebastian in days. He’s had some trouble dealing with the death of his best friend.”
Keane narrowed his eyes. He reached past her and plucked a square of paper from the door. “What’s this?”
Not a square. “A tarot card,” Olivia said. “Some local advertising campaign from one of those mystery women. Like a fortune-teller, you know?” She took the card from him and eyed the image on the front.
THE DEVIL
The words printed across the top of the card sent shivers down her spine. The image beneath it was worse. A demon creature sat on a pedestal, holding a chain in either hand, the ends connected to metal collars that encircled the necks of a man and a woman.
Olivia swallowed. What on earth was this Madame Mystery woman playing at?
Keane watched her reaction, then grunted and marched past her into the interior of the store.
“Morgan,” he said. “I thought I might find you here.”
It wasn’t a secret that Keane and Jake didn’t have the best relationship. He’d been excluded from this investigation, and the flow of information from the police hadn’t been more than a trickle this time around.
Olivia pushed the conversation out of her mind, drawn in by the horrible image on the card. It reminded her of a horror novel she’d picked up once. A terrible story about devils and angels and a woman searching for the man she adored.
She chewed the inside of her cheek and turned the card over.
Come see Madame Mystery. The innocent shouldn’t be jailed.
Olivia’s eyes widened. “The innocent?”
Goodness, had she ignored this clue all along? What if Madame Mystery had more to say than she’d anticipated? She searched her mind for a connection, sifted through all the facts and clues she’d discovered on her journey.
“The symbols,” Olivia whispered.
“What was that?” Jake asked and tapped her on the forearm.
Detective Keane stood beside the table.
Olivia shook her head and rushed to the table. She swept up her handbag and slung it over her shoulder. “I have to go,” she said.
“What?” Keane asked. “You can’t go. I need someone here to—”
“One of my A’s is upstairs,” Olivia replied. “She’ll stay here while you search. I’ve just remembered I have an appointment. I can’t miss it. Jake promised to give me a ride there. That’s why he’s here.”
Keane’s expression said he didn’t buy a word of it. “What’s an A?”
“My assistant, Alphonsine. She lives in Sebastian’s old room,” Olivia said. “Look, just tell her what’s happening. I’m sorry, but I really have to go. Now.” She rushed for the exit.
“Ms. Cloud—”
“Jake, come,” she yelled over her shoulder.
Morgan followed her, grumbling under his breath. He jangled his keys out of his pocket and unlocked the passenger side door. He opened it for her. “Want to tell me what’s going on?” he asked.
“You’ll see,” Olivia said and dipped into the interior. “We’ll all see.” She kept the tarot card plastered to her palm.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Madame Mystery operated out of purple, star-spangled tent pitched on the border of the forest.
A sign on the road bore her name in silver paint, along with a shoddily drawn tarot card. The woman herself stood at the entrance of the tent, dressed in a long, flowing robe that dwarfed her tiny frame.
Silver tufts of hair stuck up on the sides of her head; the rest of it was arranged in a messy bun atop it.
Olivia unclipped her seatbelt.
“Are you sure about this?” Jake asked. “She looks kind of—”
“Don’t judge a book by its cover.”
“Or a fortune teller by her tarot cards?” He made eyes at the devil card which sat in Olivia’s lap.
Olivia got out of the car and put her doubts aside. This woman might be her last hope.
She’d given Jake the lowdown on the way over—the symbols they’d seen on the stump had been esoteric. What if Madame Mystery had made them? What if she’d seen something? Jake thought it was a longshot. He hadn’t said it, but she could tell by the furtive glances in her direction—the ones he thought she hadn’t noticed.
She wasn’t crazy to come here.
Olivia hurried toward the little woman and held the card up between two fingers. “You sent me this. Why?”
“And hello to you too, dear. I should’ve expected nothing less than this from you. A direct approach,” Madame Mystery said in a voice which creaked about as much as a dead tree in a gale.
“What do you mean?”
“It’s in your nature.” Madame Mystery spread her arms, and bangles clanked beneath her robe. “Please, enter my home.”
Her home? The woman lived in her tent?
They followed her inside, and this time Olivia shared Jake’s furtive glances.
The inside of the tent flickered with candlelight from the single flame atop a worn table in the center of the space. Two chairs sat on either side of it, upholstered in purple to match the tent itself. A bed and a stove were pushed against the far wall.
“Take a seat, dear,” the fortune teller said. “I’m sure Mr. Morgan won’t mind standing. Chivalrous as always.”
Jake’s cheeks colored.
Olivia sat down and placed the card in the center. She didn’t know or care how this woman knew so much about them. She probably heard the gossip in Chester same as everyone else.
“You know why I’m here,” she said.
Madame Mystery gathered the velvety folds of her robe and sat down across from Olivia. “I summoned you.”
“You harassed me until I came,” Olivia corrected, “but I’m not worried about that now.”
“No. You want to know why I’ve given you The Devil,” Madame Mystery said. “I hoped it would drive the point home. Your son is in grave danger. At risk of an arrest for a crime he did not commit.”
“How do you know he didn’t commit the crime?” Olivia asked.
Madame Mystery picked up the card and examined it, carefully. “Because I saw who hit the child.”
“What? How?” Jake asked.
“I tend to cook on my stove,” Madame Mystery said. “But I ran out of gas that evening. I decided to head out to my favorite ritual spot in the woods.”
“Ritual spot—”
Olivia waved her hand at her companion. “Not important. Please continue, Madame Mystery.”
“I use it to cast spells, to perform incantations for the peace, health, and prosperity of the residents in Chester.” The woman put down the card. “But not that night. It was cold, and I wanted a hot, cooked meal.”
“So you made a fire,” Olivia said.
“The fire!” Jake clicked his finger. “You were the one who set the fire out in the woods.”
“Yes. I set it, and I enjoyed my meal. Until I heard a commotion from the house behind the forest,” Madame Mystery said. “I covered my coals and decided to take a look for myself. I suffer from an incurable case of curiosity, as I’m sure you understand, Olivia.”
“What did you see?” One again, she blew past the fact that the woman knew too much about her.
“Darkness. And the figures moving. A young man ran out into the moonlight. A man, shrouded in darkness, followed on the steps behind him. He lifted something heavy and hit the boy on the back of the head.”
Olivia sucked in a breath.
“It was a terrible thing to witness. I understand the natural ebb and flow of life better than most, but there was nothing natural about that man’s intent. He rushed back inside, and the lights came on seconds later.”
“Did you see his face?” Olivia asked. “Did you see what the man looked like?”
“No,” Madame Mystery said. “He was on the stairs during the… interaction.” She twirled her wrists, and the sleeves fell back. Bracelets and beads sparkled against her frail skin. “I stayed, however.”
“You stayed? Why?”
“I thought there might be something else. I watched the figures on the porch. Only two men matched the height of the figure I saw. One was an elderly gentleman in a suit. The father. And the other a man who hovered in the background. He left, but came back later.”
“He came back,” Olivia said.
“Yes. I heard his car from my tent,” she said.
“What car?”
“A black one. A Buick 8.”
Olivia clasped her hands to her stomach. “Mr. Walter.”
“That’s his name?” Madame Mystery asked.
“Yes.” Apparently, her spooky knowledge didn’t stretch to murder suspects. Olivia narrowed her eyes at the fortune teller. “Why didn’t you approach the police about this? It’s important information.”
“It was not the path I’m meant to take. My life doesn’t—”
“A young man lost his life, and my son might be arrested for a murder he didn’t commit. I don’t care what path you’re on,” Olivia said and slapped her palms on the table. The Devil card jiggled; the two chained lovers stared up at her.
Chained lovers. Walter and Horn. Could that be part of it? Strange connections drifted through Olivia’s thoughts.
“You’re coming with me right now,” Olivia said. “You’ve got to tell the police about this.”
Madame Mystery’s lips tightened. “I told you this because it’s your task to complete the investigation. I am not inclined to—”
“I won’t let my son suffer because you’re too stubborn or scared to talk to the police. I’ll drag you there if I have to.”
“Olivia!”
“No, Jake. No. She witnessed something, and she could’ve spoken to them ages ago. Prevented the veritable manhunt which has torn my son’s life apart. He’s missing! He’s been missing since last night. I can’t believe this is happening.” She pressed her palms to her eyes. A moment of weakness.
“Olivia, you can’t force her if she doesn’t want to.”
She swallowed, but the lump didn’t dislodge from her throat.
Madame Mystery exhaled, a frail gust of air which tickled Olivia’s forearms. “I’ll speak with them. Take me there.”
Olivia dropped her hands. “Really?” Tears threatened at the corners of her eyes. “You’ll do this?” She wouldn’t cry. She wouldn’t. She hadn’t given up on Sebastian this entire time, and she wouldn’t start now.
“Yes,” Madame Mystery said. “Show me to the car.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
They’d called ahead to the station, but Keane hadn’t returned yet, which meant he was either still at the Block-a-Choc Shoppe or had skipped out to track down Sebastian. They drove back to the store, Madame Mystery tucked into the back seat and muttering under her breath.
Olivia would either present her and her testimony to Keane or question her. The woman was the only one who’d seen anything, and it wasn’t clear whether it’d been Mr. Horn or Mr. Walter who’d actually committed the dastardly act.
They turned the corner, and Olivia let out a breath. Detective Keane’s police car sat outside, lights off, but flanked by two others. Jake parked the car just as the man of the hour exited the shop. He spotted them and halted in his tracks.
&nbs
p; “Are you ready?” Olivia asked, and unclipped her seatbelt.
Madame Mystery followed suit. She muttered under her breath but didn’t say no.
Keane folded his arms and stared them down.
Olivia got out of the car. Madame Mystery hesitated then exited it, too, gathering her robes around her small frame.
Keane’s eyebrows shot up. “This ought to be good,” he muttered.
“Are you done, Detective Keane?” Olivia asked. “With the investigation of my shop and home, I mean?”
“Yes,” he replied.
“And you didn’t get what you were looking for, I take it,” Olivia said.
“No. What’s this?” He bobbed his head at the fortune teller.
“This,” Madame Mystery announced, and twirled her arms, “is the reason you’re going to solve your case.” All the shyness had dissipated, and the artistic flair had returned. The tiny woman pranced past the detective and into the store’s interior.
Detective Keane frowned first at Olivia and then and Jake. “What’s this about?”
“Let’s go inside and find out.”
Olivia blazed past the men and into her shop. Madame Mystery had already taken a position at one of the center tables and arranged herself and her voluminous clothing appropriately. Olivia sat down across from her. Jake took the next seat, and finally Detective Keane slipped into place.
The four of them exchanged glances.
Madame Mystery twirled her wrists once, then set off on her tale. Keane’s expression transformed with each passing sentence, from neutrality to suspicion, to disbelief and then… certainty.
“I see,” he said, at last. “And you’d be willing to give a statement and testify about this in a court of law?”
Madame Mystery looked over at Olivia. Her tiny head bobbled up and then down. “Yes. If it’s absolutely necessary. I haven’t had a wonderful history with law enforcement, but if it puts a dangerous individual behind bars, I will do it.”
“Noble,” Jake said under his breath.
Olivia crunched the heel of her boot down on the toe of his. He flinched but didn’t make a noise. The last thing they needed was Madame Mystery to bail—she was the only viable lead they’d gotten.
Fudgement Day (Chocolate Cozy Mystery Book 3) Page 8
