"We have important stuff to get done," he said, like he was trying to convince himself. “But…”
“Oh go ahead. Just don’t be long.”
He made a bee-line for Martin's shop.
Huh. So Max is a nerd too. Good to know. I went into the tea shop to confab with the cat.
The cat was not acting much like a normal cat, and that gave me pause. I expected to find him sitting contentedly by a window looking out, or asleep on a pillow. Instead I found him watching the little TV I kept in the kitchen to entertain me while doing monotonous chores. Kashmir was watching Real Housewives of Outer Slovenia. That put my teeth on edge.
“Why?” I cried, waving my hand at him. “Why aren’t you reading Shakespeare or listening to a Chopin Nocturne?”
He yawned. “Been there, done that. Now I’m studying the human spirit and psychology. Reality TV is great for that.”
“Well, turn that off for now, okay? I’ve got things to tell you and I don’t have much time.”
He did as I asked and I filled him in quickly. “So what do you think?” I asked him when I’d finished. “Do we have justification for going over to the Littleton residence and snooping around at this time of night?”
He frowned, thinking deeply. At least, that was what I thought he was doing. Then he surprised me.
“Hold on,” he said. “I might be able to see what you should do in a dream.”
“In a dream?” I grimaced. “I don’t have time for that.”
Before the words were even out of my mouth, he fell asleep, his head falling over to the side, his cute little paws shivering slightly, his whiskers twitching, and then, as the sleep deepened, going into cat dreamland where he had to run very fast and his paws definitely did their part, slashing along as though they were on solid ground instead of moving in the empty air. I stared at him, mesmerized. And then it was over and he was sitting up again, licking a few places on his leg and on his shoulder.
“What happened?” I asked, fascinated.
“I had a dream,” he said, a distant look in his golden eyes.
“And?” I coaxed him.
He blinked, looking wise but mute.
“Can you pour me out some fresh water?” he asked sweetly.
"Tell me first. What did you dream, Kashmir?" I said, all a-quiver with anticipation. Maybe someday this magic stuff would get old hat, but for now it was exciting. It was like getting a love letter, when you knew who gave it to you but still had that sense of anticipation.
Kashmir, of course, knew how much I wanted to hear what he said, so after a long, "Wellllll..." He twisted his body to lick a suddenly super-important patch of fur on his back.
"Kashmir!" I said, exasperated.
"Hmm? Oh, the dream. Yes. I chased a rabbit into a dark place. The rabbit was not caught, because I chose not to do so, but I was still in the dark underplace - one of those underhouses that was still a room, not just a crawling place."
I don't think Kashmir was being deliberately obscure, though I wouldn't put it past him. Despite being a familiar, he was really just a cat, and he thought cat things. A dark underplace, and underhouse? I was pretty sure that was a basement, and there weren't a lot of those in California. Hmm...
“Are you talking about a basement?” I asked him.
“Well, of course,” he said. "Down there I found a kind of glowing place, with cold-touch metal, so I didn't go inside because metal and my kind do not mix easily. But I still looked and I could see inside that metal box where there were a bunch of those things you use with houses. And for moving things.”
He seemed to be in a sleepy trance, talking nonsense. I wanted to wring his neck.
“They’re go-inners. You know, a go-inner? You use it to get into places. There's a word for it. I just can’t think of it right now."
Metal boxes with go-inners? I was thoroughly lost here. Kashmir could tell, because he rolled his eyes at my clearly deliberate ignorance.
"Oh, come on, you have those go-inners. A door doesn't work, you slap one at it, and then it opens and lets cats go free."
"Wait... do you mean a key?" I said, pulling my set out of my pocket.
"Key? Hmm...” He yawned. “Yes. I think that's a dumb word for it but yes, it was those. A bunch of them."
If I was getting this right (no guarantee of that) Kashmir had gone into a basement, found a metal cabinet filled with keys to... move things? Get into houses? No, that was probably too literal...
“Kashmir, why can’t you just say it straight?” I said.
He whipped his tail and his eyes gleamed. “Because it is more fun to say it crooked and make you look like those comics where people have steam coming out of their ears. I like that. But I digress.” He frowned thought fully. “Let me see now. In a certain basement…”
But before he could give me the full picture—or an even a more muddled one-- Max barged in, and the cat clammed up. I bit my lip to keep from swearing…at both of them.
Max looked at Kashmir and grinned, then turned to me.
“Are you getting flashlights?”
“Got them.” I showed him what I had.
“Let’s go then.”
“Wait. I need to give Kashmir some fresh water.”
He looked down at the cat while I got the water. I could see that he wanted to provoke Kashmir in some way and I hurried, wanting to get him out of there before he did anything rude to my cat.
“Hey Kashmir,” he said softly. Kashmir looked away as though he didn’t know Max existed. “Hey, I got to practice some sneaky stealth moves today. I’ll bet you’re a real pro at that, aren’t you?”
Kashmir yawned and stretched.
“I did a pretty good job of searching the Jiggs’ sisters’ office, even though I didn’t really find anything useful.” Kashmir closed his eyes. “But I guess I haven’t lost my touch. I used to be a pretty good cat burglar you know.”
Max’s tone became more pronounced as he spit out the words ‘cat burglar’. Kashmir’s head whirled and he stared at Max, who was laughing, just waiting for that. He winked at the cat, then pointed at him playfully. “Gotcha’,” he said.
Kashmir looked away, pretending disdain.
“Oh, come on,” I said, pulling on Max’s arm. “Let’s get going. It’s so late and we have a lot to do still.”
Max sighed and followed me out. “Someday I’m going to get that cat to talk to me,” he said firmly. “He talks to you, doesn’t he?”
I shook my head. “I refuse to answer that question on the grounds that it is out of bounds and none of your business.”
“That’s a ‘yes’ in my book,” he said, and chuckled all the way to the car.
It was definitely a little late for visiting as we drove up to Norm Littleton’s house, but luckily his lights were still on. It wasn’t exactly a little house out in the big woods, but it was a bit isolated from the rest of the residences in his neighborhood. He had almost an acre and from the looks of things, he needed that much space. There were chicken-coop like structures all over the yard, each enclosed in a fenced off section which probably was meant to categorize the various pigeons he tended. The tall trees around one half of his lot helped add to the sense of privacy—and probably helped dampen the sound of the pigeons from his neighbors.
The noise they were making was incredible. It seemed to be happy noise, mostly cooing, but just the thought of living with that night and day was daunting.
“I would go nuts,” Max said.
“Maybe this is a hint of why Richie hated the pigeons.”
We sat in the car for a few more minutes. There were still lights on in the house and you could see someone moving around, so it seemed he hadn’t gone to bed yet. Neither of us was all that anxious to go in and confront the man. But if we didn’t do it now, when would we? Finally we opened car doors, got out and went to the front door.
We pressed the doorbell and listened while it echoed through the house. A moment later, the porch light cam
e on and then the door opened. Norm Littleton stood there looking suspicious.
“Yes?”
“Good evening Mr. Littleton,” Max said pleasantly. “I’m…”
“I know who you are,” he said, but he still didn’t look friendly. “What can I do for you?”
“First let me offer my sympathy for the very unfortunate death of your nephew.”
I murmured my feelings of regret as well.
“I’m writing a story on it for the morning paper and I would like to check some facts with you if I may.”
He looked undecided, then relented. “Oh, alright. Come on in.” He held the door and showed us into a large space with his living room on one side and his kitchen on the other.
The living room was pristine. It looked untouched. But the kitchen was a jumbled mess of food and cardboard boxes. It was pretty obvious which side he actually lived in most.
We sat on his sparkling clean couches and Max went down a list of questions he needed answered, items about Richie and where he’d grown up, schools he’d gone to, and all those pertinent details to a person’s life. It was sad to hear these things asked and answered but Max came across as a perfect professional and the uncle seemed to be loosening up a bit.
At the same time, I was nervously trying to figure out where the basement was and whether or not I actually dared try to find it and explore. Kashmir had seen things, but was his vision to be trusted? I just didn’t know.
The pivot point came when Max began asking him about his pigeons, asking him to explain the different varieties he owned and how he trained them. The man came alive, brightening and talking very quickly. The next thing I knew he was inviting Max out to see examples of what he’d been talking about.
“You’ve got to see my Asian Fantails,” he was saying. “Their call is spectacular. And my Danish Suabians. They’ll eat right out of your hand. Come on. I’ll show you.”
They started for the back door out of the kitchen, but I hung back.
“May I use your bathroom?” I asked.
He looked startled, and for a moment I thought he was going to refuse, but in the end he gave me a curt nod.
“Of course,” he said, and then he and Max disappeared out into pigeon-land.
I knew I had to work fast. There was no telling when they would be back. As far as I could see, there were three doors and I was going to try each one. The first one opened to the bathroom, the second to a hallway, the third to a closet. Where the heck was the basement door?
I took a chance and headed down the hallway. The first door on my right was a bedroom, the second an office. No basement. I was beginning to hyperventilate. Could Kashmir have been wrong?
And then I saw it. A bookcase in the hallway was slightly askew, as though something had knocked it off its axis a bit. I could see a bit of molding behind it and I wondered… I walked over and gave it a bit of a push. It swung open, revealing a hidden doorway. I opened the door and knew this was the place. The blast of cold air coming up from below told me as much. I pulled out my flashlight and started down the rickety stairs.
It didn’t take long to find Kashmir’s metal box. It was locked, but the key was in the door. Obviously, Mr. Littleton hadn’t been expecting strangers to be looking for this. I turned the key and snapped it open. Inside were at least twenty keys hanging on hooks, and each had a tag attached. Each tag had an address of someone in Lafay. And my gaze immediately fell on the key to the Jigg’s sister’s van, right in front of me.
I gasped. “He made copies of the keys of cars he worked on,” I whispered. And then—what? He used that copy to drive the van that ran his nephew down? Sure. He worked right down the alley. He knew when Richie was walking down it, so he ran out, jumped in the van with his illegal key, used it to kill the man, then parked it where it belonged and walked quickly back to his place of employment while everyone was consumed with trying to help Richie survive. I felt sick.
Why would he kill his nephew? Who knew? Maybe they’d had a fight that day. Maybe he wasn’t happy that the younger man had moved back in with him. Maybe it was the pigeons.
The pigeons. I had to get back up into the main house before they came back. I started up the stairs but I heard voices.
“What happened to your girlfriend?”
And Max answering.
“Uh, I don’t know. Maybe she went outside for a walk for something.”
Something crashed and then Littleton’s voice came again, much harsher than before. “I should have known you were phonies. Stay right there, you bastard. I’ve got two barrels, two triggers. I could kill you twice before you can blink.”
“Hey, listen, I didn’t…”
“Shut up. Let me think. Okay, if I kill you, I can dump your body at the landfill and…. Hold it sucker! I’m going to….”
I had to do something. The man was obviously off his rocker and there was no telling what he was willing to do. I closed my eyes and softly chanted the relevant Latin phrase, then wrapped my arms around me and hoped it had worked. My invisibility cloak, that is.
I continued up the stairs. There he was, a huge rifle or whatever it was aimed at Max—who was looking pale and a little shaky.
Okay. This was up to me. Was I breathing? Oh yeah. I was breathing hard. Even if he couldn’t see me, you would think that he would hear me.
“Never mind,” Littleton was saying. “I’ll find her after I take care of you. I can dump you both, no one will ever connect me.”
Max was babbling about how we’d told the cops where we were going, but it was so obviously a lie, Norm didn’t hesitate. He was raising the rifle, aiming, ready to shoot. He hadn’t noticed me, so maybe the invisibility cloak was working, at least for the moment. But I had to move quickly. I took a deep breath, said a little prayer, and prepared to jump at him.
And then I realized how dangerous that was. He was a fairly big guy and I was kind of little in comparison. If I missed, if I couldn’t throw him off, someone could get killed. I stopped in my tracks. I couldn’t risk it. But what could I do?
Time seemed to stand still. He was raising the rifle and I was casting my mind quickly through every spell I’d ever played around with. And then I came upon one. It was a bit obscure. I wasn’t sure if it would work. But I had to try something.
Quick as a bunny, I muttered my Latin incantation, closed my eyes and gasped out the last words.
The rifle was up. It was cocked. He was beginning to pull the trigger. And suddenly the air outside was filled with flapping wings.
I caught hold of the bannister and tried to catch my breath. The spell had worked. I’d tried to open all the cages, tried to set the pigeons into the air all around us. And it had worked.
He reared back, horror on his face. He forgot all about the rifle, forgot about killing Max. Suddenly, he was filled with pain and anguish. His birds were flying free.
And that is when I sprang.
I knocked the rifle out of his hands. It went spinning away and clattered down the basement stairs. He cried out, casting his gaze about, trying to see what had hit him.
“Get out, Max,” I said harshly. “Get to the car. Start the engine. I’m right behind you.”
And then I pushed Littleton down the basement stairs behind his gun and slammed the door shut, hoping against hope that he would have no light down there. And then I ran.
It was the next afternoon. Neither of us had really slept, but Max and I were just leaving a questioning we’d been to with the Sheriff’s Department. The cops had come to Littleton’s place quickly the night before, right after we called them. They’d found him at the bottom of the basement stairs with a broken leg. And they’d found the keys I told them about. Funny—they’d matched up with the houses that had been burgled lately—and also with the people who owned cars that he had worked on. If he could get into the cars, he could use the garage opener to get into the houses. Norm had been a busy little bee.
“Okay,” Max said, looking like a man who
’d been to war. “I’ve got to go back to the office and write this up.”
“No,” I said. “Get your right hand man to do it for you.”
“You mean Johnny Cool? He hasn’t come in lately.”
“What? You should fire him.”
“I would, if I’d ever actually hired him. He works for free, you know. I gave him the chance to learn the ropes, but he knew from the first that I couldn’t pay him.”
I stared at him. “You know what? The two of us are real doofusses. I need a reliable employee and so do you. Let’s work on that.”
He nodded.
“And right now, I’m coming with you to your office. I’ll help you get your edition out. Okay?”
He stared at me. “Really? Are you sure?”
I felt a warm little tug on my heart. “Yes. I’m sure.”
He seemed all choked up. “Mimi, that would be great. I…I don’t know how to thank you.”
I smiled. “I do.”
“Huh?”
“Tell me what the Jiggs sisters were doing instead of going to the movies that day.”
“Oh.” He laughed. “I still don’t have my memory card.”
“You’ll get it.”
He shrugged. “Okay. Here’s the scoop. They went to Greigersville to get….tattoos.”
I stared at him and blinked rapidly. “What sort of tattoos?”
“Right under the belly buttons. Right across the stomach. Sort of across the bikini area.”
“And what did they say?”
“’Lafay Witches Rule.’”
Oh wow. Gag.
“Hey. They’re not the only Lafay witches.”
“Tell them that. I’m only reporting what I know.”
I gargled with frustration. “I can’t stand those women!”
“Well, you’re stuck with them. Unless you can convince them to move on. Start talking up Las Vegas, maybe. You never know.”
He hadn’t yet asked me how I’d done what I’d done at the pigeon ranch. Or why he hadn’t been able to see me do it. But that would come later. For now, it was enough that we’d come out alive.
Confessions of a Teenage Slayer (Sister Witchcraft Book 2) Page 8
