Witch on First: A Jinx Hamilton Mystery Book 4 (The Jinx Hamilton Novels)

by Juliette Harper

  Five bars.

  “Can you do anything about getting us free unlimited data?” Tori asked.

  Moira waved her hand again.

  I cocked an eyebrow at Tori.

  “What?” she asked. “We might need to stream video or something. I was just being proactive.”

  As we headed off into the stacks, Tori said, “So, Jinksy, do we have the slightest idea how we’re going to do this?”

  “Nope,” I said.

  “Ah,” she said, “so it’s business as usual. Good to know.”

  Little did we guess that we were starting what would become three days of searching. The moms phoned home and told the dads they were staying over because we needed extra help at the store taking inventory, which was only a semi-lie. Chase put a closed sign on the front door of the cobbler shop. But Tori and I were forced to keep our place running because we didn’t want the chessboard catching on to anything unusual. That meant that during regular business hours, we had to pretend that everything was perfectly normal, and not go rushing into the basement when the last customer was out the front door at 5 o’clock. It was, to say the least, maddening.

  That ruse, however, was only necessary for one day.

  On the second night of the search, Rodney caught a rat of his own.

  18

  The triplets followed Festus through the darkened streets. After a couple of blocks, Furl moved up beside him. “I thought you had trouble getting around on your bad leg,” Furl said.

  Cutting Furl a look out of the corner of his eye, Festus said. “It comes and goes according to need.”

  “Uh-huh,” Furl said, “is that kinda like selective deafness?”

  “Something like that,” Festus said. “I’m retired. I only do things that interest me. This interests me.”

  “We’re not gonna let this guy get to Jinx,” Furl said.

  Keeping his eyes on the road ahead, Festus said, “I’m not worried about Jinx. I’m more concerned that boy of mine is going to do something stupid trying to protect her.”

  At the edge of town, Festus halted the group in the shadows across the street from a simple white cottage showing significant signs of neglect. No lights burned in any of the windows on the street. The cats darted across the pitted asphalt and slipped through the slats of the white picket fence into the tall, long-neglected grass.

  Skirting the building, they made their way around to the back yard.

  “You’re up, Merle,” Festus whispered.

  Silently Merle jumped up on the back porch and examined the screen. He extended a single claw and made a careful cut along the wooden frame. When the opening was large enough, he worked his paw inside and flipped the simple hook and eye latch.

  “Earl, a paw here?” he hissed.

  When his brother joined him on the back steps, Merle said, “Hold the screen open so I can get a look at this lock.”

  Standing on his hind legs, Merle leaned in close to the hardware.

  “How does it look?” Furl asked.

  “Stock hardware,” Merle said, running his paw over the surface. “And seriously old. Piece of cake.”

  Using his mouth, Merle extracted a long pick from a sleeve strapped to his front leg. The tool slid easily into the lock. Merle twisted his head side to side humming to himself contemplatively. Within a second or two, the lock clicked sharply. Replacing the tool in its case, Merle said, “Right side, Earl.”

  Earl stood up on his hind legs as well. Together the brothers rotated the doorknob and shoved against the door. It opened easily.

  Looking over his shoulder, Merle said, “We’re in.”

  After Festus and Furl had slipped inside, Earl threw his weight against the door and closed it quietly, just in time to hear Festus swear, “Bastet’s whiskers!”

  “What?” Earl asked.

  “It smells worse than a litter box in here,” Festus said. “How do humans live like this?”

  Merle nodded toward the counters piled high with stacks of dirty dishes and open cans of pork and beans. “I’d say this human didn’t care,” he said. “Doesn’t look like Pike was much for housekeeping.”

  Festus shook his head. “I knew Fish was never the same after Martha Louise died,” he said, “but I didn’t know it was this bad. Of course, he wasn’t exactly firing on all cylinders when she was alive. Come on, let’s find that room. The Sheriff told Chase it’s here at the back of the house.”

  The cats stepped into a short hallway with scarred wood floors.

  Earl stuck his head in the first door on the right. “Got a bathroom here. Pretty sure the cure for something is growing in the tub.”

  “Closet on this side,” Merle said, “or a moth sanctuary depending on how precise you want to be.”

  Farther down the hall, Festus called out, “Boys, I think that’s the one.”

  Three heads turned to follow his gaze to a door outfitted with a hasp that now stood open, a thick padlock dangling from the ring hook screwed into the frame. Festus went in first and let out a low whistle.

  “Hey,” Earl said, “how did you do that? Cats can’t whistle.”

  “I’ve had more than 100 years to practice,” Festus said absently. “Get your head in the game and look at this joint.”

  “Oh, crap,” Merle said, spotting the huge map plastered on one wall. “Those pins are all the entrances to Shevington. Even the ones that are secret.”

  Furl jumped up on the desk to get a better look. “Not just Shevington,” he said. “There’s the Raleigh portal and the one in Asheville.”

  He glanced down at his feet and backed up a little to read what he was standing on. “And these are reports of investigations on the Brown Mountain Lights.”

  “I’ve got reports on shapeshifter incidents all over the United States,” Earl said, using his paws to dig through papers on the work table. “All kinds, not just werecats. And there’s stuff here on the killings in Seattle.”

  “What the hell was Pike doing?” Merle asked.

  Festus sighed. “In his head, he was trying to find his way home to the Valley,” he said. “I tried to make him understand about the taboo, the shunning from the werecat community, but clearly, I never got through to him. The last time we talked, he told me he knew if I’d just take him to the Valley, he’d be able to shift.”

  “Poor old coot,” Furl said. “It wasn’t his fault Jeremiah chose to take up . . . ”

  The words died in his throat, his whiskers twitching uncertainly. “Aw, geez, Festus, I’m sorry,” Furl said. “I didn’t mean anything about Chase and Jinx.”

  “I know,” Festus said. “Don’t worry about it. They’re young. They’re not thinking about the consequences. Like what we’re standing here looking at.”

  “We can’t let the humans keep this stuff,” Earl said. “They’ve seen too much already.”

  “No,” Festus said, “we may have caught a break on that one. The Sheriff told Chase they hadn’t processed this room yet because they wanted the Feds to see it intact, and there aren’t any pictures because the department’s digital camera crapped out before they could photograph this room. Sometimes living in a poor-ass county has its advantages.”

  “This is an awful lot of stuff,” Furl said, lifting one hind leg to scratch his ear. “I think there’s only one thing we can do.”

  Merle flicked his tail. “Aw, man,” he said. “Do we have to call those wild animals?”

  Furl sighed. “We do,” he said. “They’re masters at making destruction look natural. We need them.”

  Earl groaned. “God,” he said, “don’t tell them that. You know how easy they get the swelled head.”

  “Okay, can it, all of you,” Furl said. “We don’t have a choice. I’m placing the call. Make room.”

  As the others backed away, Furl stared into the space in the center of the room. A low, rumbling purr began to emanate from deep in his chest. The tip of his tail flicked rhythmically until a ball of light formed in front of him. After a
few seconds, the sphere flattened out into a cloud and cleared to transparency. Bright eyes twinkling in the depths of an ebony mask peered out at him over a sharp snout and button nose.

  “Furl! Brother! How’s the fur hanging, man?” the raccoon asked merrily. “You got a job for my wrecking crew? We’ve been working on some wicked new techniques.”

  “Hey, Rube,” Furl said. “We’ve got a Class 1 security breach at this location. One room, but I need it to look like your boys broke in and trashed the place. It’s a whole house job. Full shredder effect on documents and pictures.”

  “Suh. . . wheet!” Rube grinned, revealing a mouth full of sharp, white teeth. “Brother, we are on the case. Oh, man, this is gonna be a blast! Let me pull the boys out of the bar and catch a portal to the local sewer system. Be at your coordinates in thirty.”

  When Rube broke the connection, Merle said, “Do they always have to come through the sewers?”

  “The sewers are like raccoon highways,” Festus said. “You ought to see the database of nationwide diagrams they maintain.”

  “And you know this how?” Furl asked, cocking an eyewhisker at the old ginger cat.

  “I may have gotten drunk with them a few times,” Festus answered complacently, licking one front paw with studied nonchalance.

  “Festus!” Earl gasped. “You’ve been to a raccoon bar? Do you have any standards?”

  “Don’t be so self-righteous, Earl,” Festus snapped. “Those mangy critters make primo home brew. You think they’re that crazy naturally? Not a chance. We’re talking serious chemical help. Now if you’re done questioning my morals, we’ve got half an hour before Rube and his team get here. Can we get some work done and case this joint, or would you rather keep lecturing me?”

  “Fine, fine,” Earl said, “but I can just imagine what Chase would say.”

  Festus put his ears down. “What you should imagine is what I’ll do to you if you say one word to him.”

  “Gentlemen,” Furl said, “enough. Spread out. Let’s see what else is here.”

  Half an hour later, the sound of rapidly scampering feet from the kitchen brought all four cats back into the hall where they came face to face with a pack of six burly raccoons.

  “Festus!” Rube said, moving forward and cuffing Festus in the whiskers. “Look at you, old man, all on the case like the suits here. You going straight on us?”

  Festus returned the smack. “Don’t be counting me out any time soon, you stinking gutter rat,” Festus said. “This your best team? Looks like a bunch of sewer scum to me.”

  The raccoons broke into chattering laughter.

  “You know my boys are the masters of mayhem,” Rube enthused. “Leon there is our raccoon crap specialist. He can let it fly on command. Booger can gnaw through anything. And Marty has claws of steel. We will take this place down to the studs if you need us to.”

  “Nothing quite that drastic,” Furl said. “Let me show you the real target.”

  Rube waddled after Furl and let out his own version of a whistle when he saw the secret room.

  “Damn,” he said, “whose house is this? Those are all the approaches to The Valley.”

  “Sorry, Rube,” Furl said, “this is a need-to-know situation.”

  “Yeah, I hear you, brother. No worries,” Rube said. “I’m not into this cloak-and-dagger stuff anyway. I’m all about destruction.” Then he added somberly, “You guys may want to go out back and wait until we’re done. Sometimes we get a little too enthusiastic and don’t watch out for bystanders. Don’t want any collateral damage.”

  “Noted,” Furl said. “We’ll wait until you’re ready for us to inspect the work.”

  As the cats headed through the kitchen, Rube cracked his knuckles and turned to his crew. “Okay, boys, let’s burn this joint to the ground.”

  Furl hissed over his shoulder, “Nix on the fire, Rube.”

  “Don’t get your tail in a twist. It’s a metaphor, man,” Rube called out. “You cats are always so damned literal.”

  “Which is a good thing when you’re dealing with raccoons,” Furl grumbled as he and Festus headed down the stairs. “Did you smell the breath on those guys? What the hell have they been drinking? Kerosene?”

  “I wouldn’t strike a match and find out,” Festus said.

  Two hours later, Rube emerged from the back door pulling shreds of fabric out of his claws. “Okay,” he told Furl, “I think we’re done. Work of freaking art if I do say so myself. Go see for yourself.”

  Furl and Festus started forward, but Merle and Earl stayed in place. “You guys coming?” Furl asked.

  “No way,” Merle said. “I can smell the coon crap from here. I’ll take your word on the quality control.”

  “Me, too,” Earl said. “You know I have a delicate stomach. I’ve already barfed three times today, so I’m not looking to do it again.”

  “Suit yourself,” Furl said, heading for the door.

  “So he’s still the barfinator, huh?” Festus asked, limping beside him.

  “Totally,” Furl said. “Makes us nuts. He’s one of those texture cats. Feed him chunky and up it comes.”

  “Lighten up on him,” Festus said. “I’ve always been a pâté man, myself. Just cause you and Merle can eat everything in sight doesn’t mean we’re all that way.”

  “Says the man who can plow through his weight in nip nachos,” Furl said.

  “Nip is good for the digestio. . . “

  The sight of the interior of the house even rendered Festus speechless.

  “Holy hairball,” he finally managed. “This place looks like an earthquake and a tornado hit it.”

  “Aw, thanks, Festus,” Rube said, trying to look humble and failing. “We put some signature moves on the place. I did the cabinets personally.”

  Festus looked at the cabinet doors. They were all hanging at odd angles, the contents of the shelves spilled out on the counters and down into heaps on the floor. “Spreading the flour and mixing it in with the sorghum was a nice touch,” he said appreciatively.

  “I thought so,” Rube said clinically. “Marty worked a similar routine with feather pillows and vapor rub in the bedroom. We trashed all the living room furniture and dug up most of the carpet. Got into the coat closet for good measure.”

  “And the target room?” Furl asked.

  “Now that,” Rube said, waddling down the hall, “is a work worthy of a grand master. Gotta admit I took a few pictures for our portfolio.”

  “I told you this was a Class 1 security matter,” Furl said. “No photos.”

  “Post demo, man. Totally post after it was all toast,” Rube assured him. “No before pics.”

  “Fine,” Furl said, “but I’ll need to clear those before you share them.”

  “Absolutely, brother,” Rube said earnestly. “Wouldn’t dream of breaching protocol.”

  At the door of the room, Festus and Furl were met with a sea of ripped paper and liberal deposits of coon by-products. The stench was so powerful, even Festus took a step backwards. “Laid it on a little thick, didn’t you?” he said, stifling a cough.

  “Didn’t want the humans to get it in their heads to try to put any of it back together,” Rube said proudly. “They’re not gonna want to touch any of that stuff now. We good?”

  “We’re good,” Furl said. “Excellent work as always. I’ll transfer your payment as soon as I get to The Registry in the morning.”

  “No sweat, man,” Rube said. “We know you’re good for it. Any objections to us hitting a few hen houses on the way out of town? We’re craving eggs.”

  “I can’t tell you what to do on your own time,” Furl said, “just remember, you’re in shotgun territory.”

  “Got it,” Rube said. “Catch you cats on the Flipside. Come on, boys. Let’s roll.”

  Festus and Furl watched as the raccoons lumbered down the hall and out the kitchen door.

  “Would you just look at the size of the backsides on those guys?” Furl
said.

  “You taken a look at your own gut lately?” Festus asked.

  “That’s just fur,” Furl said defensively. “I have very thick fur.”

  “Keep telling yourself that,” Festus snorted. “Come on, let’s get the boys and get home. Our job is done here. I want to get back and help out in the basement. I’ve got a bad feeling about all this.”

  Furl stopped. “You’re still hung up on Kelly, aren’t you?” he said softly. “You want to get back and make sure she’s safe.”

  Festus scowled at him. “She’s my charge, Furl. You know that.”

  “Come on, Festus,” Furl said, “it’s just you and me in here. We’ve known each other too long to play games with each other. Do you think this hit man has something to do with what happened before Jinx was born?”

  Festus sighed. “I hope not,” he said, “but I’m afraid it might. Fiona told me Kelly asked about the boy.”

  Furl’s eyes went wide. “Oh,” he said, “not good.”

  “Not good at all,” Festus agreed. “If this hit man just has it out for McGregors that’s one thing. But he wasn’t after McGregors in Seattle. He’s a claw for hire, which means the real bad guy is the one signing his paychecks.”

  19

  We spent the rest of the night down in the basement. Since Tori and I had to work the next day, we grabbed a couple of hours’ sleep on the cots that suddenly appeared in the shadows under the stairs. At dawn, we awakened to the smell of fresh coffee and a hot breakfast prepared by Darby, only to find a fully-organized command center in the lair.

  During the night, it became obvious to Barnaby and Moira that the archives were too huge for a row-by-row search. When Tori and I headed upstairs to open the store, they were huddled over a collection of grimoires working on a focused scanning incantation. Mom and Gemma would be testing versions of the spell for them throughout the day. Beau was immersed in research duty with Myrtle, which left Chase and Aunt Fiona to conduct spot checks in the stacks at their direction.