“The book! Save the book! Hand it out first, and then I’ll help you out!” Marion yelled.
Evie was on her feet, the book still open in her hands and still chanting. “On toadly form, so mate it be!” She flung her hands out at Brian again, but nothing happened.
“Forget about it, Evie. We don’t have time! We have to get out now!” I grabbed the book from Evie and stood on my tiptoes to hand it out to Marion.
Her gnarled hand darted in and clamped onto the corner with a vise-like grip.
Something just behind the wheels of her chair caught my eye. Red stilettos.
Felicity Bates?
Why would Felicity be here helping us?
Marion tugged at the book just as I realized I’d made a huge mistake. Felicity wouldn’t help us, and neither would Marion. It was a trap.
Marion tugged harder, and the book slipped out of my hand. She pulled it through the window then bent back down, looking in at us. “Sorry, Evie. I hate to do this to you, but it has to be done. By the way, it’s ‘so mote it be’ ... Not ‘mate.’ Stupid twit couldn’t even get the spell jargon right,” she muttered just before she slammed the metal storm covering over the outside of the window and locked it shut.
26
“Now you’ve done it!” I whirled on the menacing voice to see Brian, now standing, his face red with rage. He spun around, whipping a nasty-looking sword whose blade was as wide as an airplane propeller off a black display board that had been hanging on the wall, and rushed toward us. The sword must have been part of a display. It looked three hundred years old. Hopefully it hadn’t been sharpened since.
Evie whispered something, but I wasn’t paying attention to her. I was busy thrusting my arms up over my face to keep Brian from slashing it with the sword. I braced myself for the pain.
“By form of toad, so mote it be!”
Splat.
The blow never came, and when I peeked out from behind my arms, sitting on the floor in front of us was a fat, ugly toad.
“It worked!” Evie’s excitement was a little hard to understand, given our predicament.
I eyed the toad suspiciously. Had she actually just cast a spell? My grandmother’s words to believe in magic came back to me. Did magic really exist? And if so, could we use it to escape?
“Great. Now make a spell to put that fire out so we can get out of here.” I jerked my chin toward the fire, which was now consuming several boxes and working its way toward an old oak-and-glass display case. The temperature in the basement had gone up a few degrees, and beads of sweat formed on my forehead. To top it all off, my leg ached worse than it had in months.
Evie’s face fell. “I don’t actually know any spells. That’s why I wanted the book.”
“But you just turned Brian into a toad.”
A smile ghosted across her lips as she glanced down at the toad, which glared up at her with its liquid-gold eyes. “Gram always said I was special, and I knew I had powers, but I never knew the words to unleash them.” She glanced over toward the window, her smile fading. “And now I guess I still don’t.”
I didn’t have time to commiserate with Evie. “We need to find the door out of here, pronto. Let’s skirt the wall and see if we can locate it.”
“Okay. I’m sorry I suspected you. I could tell you were after the book, and I knew I had to protect it. I didn’t know from whom, though.”
“Let’s just focus on getting out of here.” I could hardly blame her—I’d suspected her too.
I slipped through rows of boxes and wiggled behind tall chests and display cases, feeling my way around the dim basement, looking for a door in the wall. It was hard going—the basement was crammed with old displays, boxes of historical artifacts, and various donated items. The smell of burning wood and cardboard added to the urgency, each crackle of the flames ratcheting my anxiety to a higher level.
“There has to be a door up into the museum around here somewhere,” I yelled. But the basement was big. Would we be able to cover the entire perimeter before the fire engulfed it?
“I can’t believe Aunt Marion turned on me.” Evie’s voice shook as she pressed along the wall next to me. “No wonder she kept asking about the book. I think she thought Gram had told me where it was. I looked for it because she said she wanted to help me learn the spells, and the whole time I just played into her hands.”
“I’m sorry about that, but you couldn’t know she wanted the book for evil purposes.”
Evie stopped and looked at me wide eyed. “Just what is she going to do with the spell book, anyway?”
“I don’t know, but whatever it is, we aren’t going to like it. We have to get out of here and stop her.” Because burning alive in here won’t do anyone any good, least of all us.
“The room is filling up with smoke. I can’t even see the wall.” Evie coughed. “Hey, what about Brian? He would have had to have known the other way out in order to escape!”
“Right. Too bad you turned him into a toad.”
“His body is a toad, but his mind still thinks like Brian. If he knows a way out, he’ll head there. Even a toad doesn’t want to burn up.”
We raced through the haze back to the spot where we’d been standing when Evie cast her spell. I could still see a wet oval blotch on the floor where the toad version of Brian had sat. Smaller wet marks led toward the southwest corner. We followed them, shoving boxes and furniture out of the way as the fire threatened behind us.
“Over here!” Evie had made it to the corner first and had shoved several boxes aside to reveal a large steel door. Relief flooded through me as I rushed over to it. I grabbed the doorknob and twisted, pulling the door. It didn’t budge. I twisted in the other direction and pulled again, but to no avail.
The door was locked.
Pandora smelled the fire even before she saw the smoke billowing from the back of the historical society building. As they raced out of the woods, her worst fears were realized. The building was on fire, and Willa was inside!
Inkspot was in the lead. He stopped at the edge of the woods so the herd of cats would be hidden by the tall grass as they watched the goings-on in the parking lot. Pandora could see things were not going well. The old lady, Marion, sat in her wheelchair near a long black sedan. If that wasn’t enough to raise Pandora’s suspicions, the person standing in front of Marion was. It was Felicity Bates, and she didn’t look happy. The cats watched as she bent down, trying to snatch the book out of Marion’s clutches. Marion pulled back, and the two ladies got into a noisy tug-of-war punctuated by the squeaking of Marion’s wheelchair wheels as she was pulled forward and pushed back.
“That’s the spell book! I can sense it,” Squeaky, a tiger cat who was one of the lucky feral cats that found a forever home, whispered from beside Pandora.
But Pandora was too distracted by the plumes of smoke coming out of the basement door of the building to worry about the book.
“I’m going in.” Pandora started to spring toward the building, but Otis shot out his paw and held her back.
“Patience, little one. We cannot rush in,” Otis said.
“My human is in there. I must save her!”
“Don’t worry. We will. But we must be strategic,” Otis assured her.
“Is Fluff here with the red-haired witch?” Woodson, a tall buff tabby, asked.
The cats hunkered down, all of them dialing up their senses in search of Fluff. Pandora did not catch even the slightest whiff of the offensive cat. Remembering the conversation she’d had with him in the bookstore window, she was not surprised.
“Fluff is not here,” she said. “He has trained his human to do the work for him, so he doesn’t need to get his claws dirty. He is likely at home, snoozing on a silk pillow.”
“Spoiled rotten,” Kelley said.
“They’re getting away! We must hurry!” Olive’s light-blue eyes registered alarm. Pandora tore her gaze from the burning building and looked over at the two women. Marion had produced
a silver-handled cane and was beating Felicity off as she tried to maneuver herself into the sedan.
“We must stop them. All cats converge on the woman with the book. Do not let her get away!” Inkspot commanded then turned to Pandora. “Pandora, take Otis and Obsidian into the museum and save Willa.”
Pandora didn’t need to be told twice. She was already up and racing toward the building before Inkspot had finished the sentence.
“This way.” Obsidian took the lead. “The basement door is blocked by the fire. Too dangerous. But I know of a secret entrance.”
Pandora’s heart twisted as they raced toward the building. It had taken her a long time to get Willa to the mediocre state of understanding they had between them now, but she had to admit she’d grown quite attached to the human. The thought of life without her was unbearable.
Pandora glanced at Otis running by her side, his face focused on the task ahead, concentrating on saving the humans. She felt a rush of camaraderie. She knew that despite their differences, she could count on the persnickety calico.
Obsidian led them to one of the basement windows. It was shuttered with a metal shutter, but there was a small opening in one corner, and they squeezed through, plopping down onto the cold concrete below. Pandora already had her senses amped up, and she could easily see the hulking furnace and ductwork despite the fact that it was pitch black in the furnace room. Her sense of smell was also heightened, and her whiskers twitched at the smells of burning cloth and wood as well as melting rubber and plastic.
“We must find Willa before the fire gets her.” Pandora lifted her nose to the air, trying to scent her human. Her gut churned. Willa could be lying unconscious anywhere in the basement of the large building. How would she find her? All she could smell was smoke.
“I know of the display that holds items you can use to squelch the fire,” Obsidian said as he padded quickly toward the door that opened into the rest of the basement. “You must lead your human to the items so she can use them properly. It is not something cats can do easily.”
“Fine. Fine,” Otis said. “Let’s get a move on. We don’t have much time.”
Obsidian snaked his paw under the crack in the door and pulled it open then slipped out, with Otis and Pandora following. The basement was thick with smoke. Panic shot through Pandora. Were they on time? Where was Obsidian taking them? She wondered if it was a wild goose chase, if there was really some display that could stop the fire, and if so, would Willa even know how to use it?
Obsidian stopped at a pile of boxes. He jumped up on something next to them and peered down, his claw reaching out and snagging the corner of the box and flipping the flaps open. Otis and Pandora joined him and peered into the box. Inside were several glass balls filled with some sort of liquid. There were red balls and clear balls. Pandora’s shoulders hunched in disappointment. There was not enough liquid to put out the fire that she could hear raging on the other end of the basement.
“Is this some kind of trick?” Otis looked at Obsidian skeptically. “How can these put out a fire?”
“These were found in the attic of the fire department. They are antique fire grenades with special liquid. You throw them at the fire, and they act like a fire extinguisher. Unfortunately, they must be thrown, and cats cannot do that.” Obsidian looked at Pandora. “We must lead Willa to them.”
Pandora didn’t have much choice but to trust Obsidian. Not to mention that she didn’t have any better ideas. “Okay, but first we must find her.”
As if Willa had read Pandora’s mind, her voice called out from the southwest corner of the room. “Help! Is anyone out there?”
The cats raced in that direction, darting out from behind an old display case to see Willa frantically pulling on the handle of a large metal door.
Striker sped down Main Street on his way toward the historical society building just outside of town. Was it a coincidence that Louis’s ghost had popped up with a hunch that the item Adelaide hid the book in may have been donated to the society at the same time he received an anonymous call about a disturbance involving a gaggle of cats in the parking lot of that same building? He didn’t think so.
“I just hope the book hasn’t been discovered and thrown out as junk.” Striker was afraid that if it had, the old man’s ghost would haunt him forever.
He careened into the parking lot, his attention on the black sedan parked over by the building, beside which Marion Hamilton sat in her wheelchair, covered in cats. He’d envisioned a couple of alley cats tipping over a trash barrel, not a woman covered in a living-cat coat.
He parked facing the sedan and got out. “What’s going on here?”
“Get these darn cats off me!” Marion beat at the cats with her hands and poked at them with her cane, but there were dozens of them, all clinging to her and purring. They were in her lap, on her shoulders, on her ankles, and intertwined in the spokes of the chair’s wheels. There was even one on top of her head—a large black cat that stared at Striker with uncanny intelligence in its golden eyes.
“I’m sorry, ma’am. I don’t know what is going on here. What are you doing in this parking lot after hours?” Striker tried to pull a seal-point Siamese off Marion’s shoulder, but the cat hissed and struck out at him, causing him to jump back. What was the old lady doing here? The building had been closed for hours. What possible reason would she have to be here…unless she was also looking for the book?
“I just came out for a ride. I’m an old woman and shouldn’t be subjected to this. Please get rid of these creatures.”
The back door of the car was open. Marion had been trying to get in the backseat. But if she was getting in the back, that meant she wasn’t the driver. “Who drove you here?”
“I drove her.” Striker turned to see John, the Hamiltons’ butler, at the edge of the woods, brushing leaves and debris from his black suit.
Striker looked over John’s shoulder into the woods. “What were you doing in the woods?”
“I was chasing after Fel… er … I mean, I had a call of nature.”
Striker knew enough to know the man was lying, but he didn’t have a chance to interrogate him, because just then a loud crack from the building stole his attention. He whirled around to see plumes of smoke coming from the back. The building was on fire! He swiveled back to look at Marion and John. “Did you set the building on fire?”
John’s eyes were wide. He looked just as surprised to see the building on fire as Striker. “No. I had nothing to do with that, but there are two people in there.”
“How do you know? What people?” An uneasy feeling settled in Striker’s chest.
John’s eyes drifted to the other end of the parking lot. Striker hadn’t thought to look down there when he’d driven in—his attention had been on Marion and all the cats. He followed John’s gaze, his heart twisting when he recognized Willa’s Jeep.
“I’m not sure if they are still in there, but I believe that nosy bookseller woman, Brian, and Evie Hamilton are inside.”
Striker didn’t wait for him to finish. He was off and running toward the building as soon as he’d seen Willa’s Jeep. Sirens wailed in the distance. Someone had called the fire department, but Striker couldn’t wait for them to arrive. He rushed toward the burning building and prayed that it wasn’t too late.
27
“It’s locked!” I released the knob and pounded on the door. “Help! Is anyone up there?”
Evie collapsed against the door. “There’s no one up there, Willa. The museum is closed.”
I spun around and eyed the growing fire. There was no way we could get through it to the basement door, so I would have to find either another door or a way to put the fire out.
“The toad escaped through here.” Evie pointed to a wet splotch under the door. “Now I wish I had never cast that spell.”
“Why? Seemed like that was smart. He was going to cut us up with a sword.” I looked around the perimeter for the signs of another door …
or maybe a fire extinguisher.
“Brian killed Gram, and I want him to pay. But unless I can turn him back from a toad, that’s not going to happen.”
“Won’t happen if we burn up in a fire, either,” I said. “But anyway, I don’t think it was Brian who killed her. He seemed to be telling the truth when he said he didn’t.”
Evie screwed up her face. “Well, then who killed her?”
“I hate to tell you, but I think it was Marion…and I think I know how to prove it if we can just get out of here.” It made perfect sense now. Marion wanted the spell book and probably killed Adelaide in an attempt to get her sister to tell her where it was, or to get her out of the way so she could search for it. Marion didn’t have a lot of time left herself, so she wouldn’t want to wait around for Adelaide to die of natural causes. The squeaking Josie had heard in the hall that morning wasn’t someone sneaking up through the dumbwaiter—it was Marion’s wheelchair. I’d noticed tracks near the disturbed earth the first time I’d gone to the daisy field. I’d thought it was someone digging for the spell book, but what if it was Marion hiding evidence? She knew they only opened the time capsule once a year and only to put stuff in. If she’d killed Adelaide and had buried the evidence underneath everything else in there, the chances were no one would find it for a hundred years.
Evie’s eyes misted. “No. I thought Aunt Marion was…” Her voice drifted off, and she glanced at the window that Marion had slammed to bar our escape. “Well, I guess she wasn’t what I thought she was.”
“Meow!”
My blood froze. Was I hearing things?
“Did you hear a cat?” Evie asked.
“How could there be a cat in here? We would have heard it before, wouldn’t we?” I vaguely remembered something about the historical society museum having a resident cat. Maybe it had been napping down here and was now trapped in the basement with us. If that were the case, I would have to find it. I couldn’t escape and leave the cat to burn in the fire.
Probable Paws (Mystic Notch Cozy Mystery Series Book 5) Page 16
