Cupid's Treasure - Mystery of the Golden Arrow (Paranormally Yours)

by Barbara Ivie Green

“What is it?” Jonathan asked.

  “It is the residue I collected from the tip of the arrow.” Harold said.

  Jonathan held it up to the light so that he could see it better. There was a clear division of the liquid. A yellowish substance floated on the top.

  “The separation was actually quite easy due to the high partition coefficient of the compounds’ subtle differences.”

  “Really,” Jonathan shook it up. “Do you know what it is?”

  “Well, in truth I’ve never seen the chemical makeup of this particulate before, but according to the chromatogram’s graphic analysis and the electromagnetic spectroscopy output,” Harold said, “it shares many of the same attributes and properties as the crassostrea virginica.”

  “Come again?” Jonathan raised a brow.

  René chuckled. “Crassostrea is the oistre.”

  “Oyster?” Jonathan said, looking again through the glass vial.

  “Yes,” Harold said. “I was able to isolate the two active ingredients, D-aspartic acid, and N-mythyl-D aspartate.”

  “Tell me you understand this.” Jacques looked at Jonathan who shook his head.

  “They are both rare amino-acids,” Harold supplied.

  “That sounds fairly benign,” Jonathan said as he opened the lid.

  “Careful,” Harold said. “Its potency is exponentially higher than that of the normal bivalve molluscs.”

  Jonathan then sniffed it. “It’s odorless.” He held it out to Jacques who sniffed it next.

  “I detect nothing,” Jacques said. “Is it toxic?”

  “That depends on how you would view an aphrodisiac,” Harold said.

  “So you are saying this is some sort of love potion?” Jacques asked.

  “There was also another compound present that is known to stimulate pheromone production,” Harold said.

  “Have you run any test to find out what the effects are?” Jonathan asked.

  “That would require a test subject,” Harold replied.

  “We could put it on Elvis and see if Kisses likes him,” Jacques said.

  “I’m not sure it would have the same effect outside of our own species,” Harold said. “And I am most interested to see if this is absorbed into your body.”

  “Me?” Jonathan pointed to himself. “No-no-no!” He held his hand up. “Why am I the guinea pig?”

  All three men looked at him.

  “Look, I’m not the only one here with unusual attributes.” Jonathan pointed to both Jacques and René.

  “So what would you suggest?” Jacques asked. “We draw straws?”

  “Well, that at least would be more fair,” Jonathan said.

  “But we are all married,” René said. “We cannot be the test subjects, just in case it does attract women, or worse one of us might fall in love with the wrong woman.”

  “Good point,” Jacques said.

  “But it’s okay if I go for the wrong woman?” Jonathan looked at them like they were heartless.

  “Of course not,” René said.

  “There would be less collateral damage if that were the case,” Harold said.

  “And what if the side effects are more concentrated below the belt?” Jonathan asked. “All that awaits me is a cold shower. It makes more sense that a man who is married should be the one to try it.”

  “This, too, is a good point,” Jacques agreed. “It is only fair that we draw straws. I shall hold them.”

  Chapter 10

  “No, that’s not fair!” Jonathan looked down at the straw in his hand and then cast an accusatory glance in Jacques’s direction. “We should do it again, and this time I get to hold the straws.”

  “I assure you, I did nothing to alter the outcome of this game.” Jacques lifted his chin, suggesting he was slightly offended by the remark.

  Jonathan sighed.

  “You would think that a single man would jump at the chance to participate in this type of experiment,” Jacques said. “Are you saving yourself for someone in particular?”

  “Okay, fine,” Jonathan said to stop the hints in that direction.

  Harold pulled a paper pouch out of his pocket, pulled out a sterile swab, and handed it to him. “Since a needle doesn’t exist that can draw your blood, we will have to test the rate of absorption, if any, with your saliva.”

  “I hate being a forgone conclusion.” Jonathan took it from him and stuck it in his mouth.

  “Well,” Jacques said, “I for one will still love and respect you in the morning.”

  Jonathan looked at the vial on the table like it contained snake venom. “What now?”

  “Shake it up and use your finger to apply it to your skin,” Harold instructed.

  “Does it matter where?” Jonathan asked.

  “I would think the pulse points would be best.”

  Jonathan shook it, tipped it onto his finger, and applied it to his wrist. “There, happy?”

  Harold withdrew his glasses, pen, a note pad, and another swab packet.

  “Pee-yoo!” Hank said as he slipped into the seat next to him. “Man, we are trying to eat here.”

  Harold leaned over and sniffed, jotting something in his notes.

  “Man, are you running one of your experiments here?” Hank leaned over to read Harold’s note and read it aloud. “Exudes unpleasant odor.” He looked at Jonathan. “Yeah, you can say that again. I’m going to have to change places.”

  Shelly arrived at the table with the pitcher of beer. “That will be five dollars—

  hmmm,” she sniffed, “whose cologne is that?”

  “Don’t look at me.” Hank held up his hands.

  “What does it smell like?” Harold asked curiously.

  “I don’t know.” She inhaled deeply again. “Old spice and a hint of musk. You know what? This pitcher’s on me, fellas.”

  “Why, thank you.”

  “My pleasure,” she said, inhaling deeply as she walked away.

  Harold handed Jonathan a swab and looked at his watch. “What are your feelings for our waitress?”

  “Shelly?” Jonathan looked at him like he was crazy. “Oh, hell no.”

  “Not interested in the opposite sex,” Harold wrote.

  Jonathan watched him. “Don’t write that,” he said around the swab in his mouth. “I’m very attracted.”

  “To anyone in this room?” Harold asked curiously, looking out at the room.

  Jonathan didn’t need to look. He already knew the only woman he was thinking about or interested in was back at the house having her hair dyed blue or some other hellacious thing. “No.” He chuckled.

  Patricia Parker walked into Flannigan’s and sat down at the bar.

  Harold took note of her arrival. “How about now?”

  “No, but I do need to see somebody about a book,” Jonathan said, standing up.

  “Non!” Jacques laid a hand on his arm. “Not now. Let’s wait 'til the side effects wear off.” All the other men at the table readily agreed.

  Hank picked up the vial on the table and examined it. “So what is this exactly?”

  “Ah—it’s a new cologne the professor is working on,” Jacques said.

  “This is what you are doing up in the attic?” Hank said as he opened the bottle and sniffed it. “I don’t smell anything.” Before anyone could stop him, he dabbed some behind each ear.

  “Uh—” Jonathan uttered, lifting up his hand to take the bottle.

  “What?” Hank said. “I didn’t use much. It’s not like I’d want to go home smelling like a French whore.”

  Jacques sniffed the air. “No worries there.” He coughed.

  The table of men behind them looked back. “What died?” One guy waved his hands in the air. “C’mon, you guys are killing us!” They got up and moved to another table across the room.

  “Very interesting,” Harold said as he scribbled in his notes.

  “I can hardly take it,” Jacques said as he gagged. “I may have to join them.” He indicate
d the table of men that had just left.

  “How do you feel?” Harold asked Hank.

  “Fine.” He shrugged. “Why?”

  “Would you mind swabbing?” Harold asked.

  Their waitress came back to the table with another pitcher of beer. “This is from the ladies in the corner.” She smiled. “Mm—hmm,” she sighed, looking at Hank. “Have you done something different with your hair?”

  “No,” he said in surprise, running a hand over his bald head.

  “Very interesting indeed,” Harold remarked as he scribbled in his pad.

  Hank watched the waitress walk away. “That’s amazing! I wonder what Charlene is going to do?”

  ~*~

  “Ah!” Charlene said when Jessie’s hair was revealed. “I love it!” She patted her own hair and craned her neck to see her reflection in the mirror.

  “No peeking, now,” Gloria said as she removed the towel from Amber’s hair. “You girls promised.”

  “Yes, we did.” Charlene sat back. “I just can’t wait to see it,” she said then fell silent as Amber’s dark golden curls were unleashed. “Oh, she breathed, “girl, wait 'til you see yours!”

  Amber picked up one of her tresses and swallowed. It was her natural color. “I thought it was going to be blue,” she said in dismay.

  “Just the treatment was blue,” Gloria said.

  “Oh, honey, you are going to love it!” Charlene said. “Just wait until Hercules gets a load of you.”

  “Who?” Amber asked.

  “Jonathan,” Charlene amended.

  Jessie laughed. “I’ve always thought of him as Thor myself.”

  Mavis chuckled. “He reminds me of Bam-Bam. He looked just like him as a little boy.” She put the eyeliner down she’d been applying on Amber and out came a purse sized photo album. “Look, here he is as a baby, and here he is on Halloween when he was two.”

  “Aw, he’s dressed as Bam-Bam,” Charlene said. “And look at you dressed as Wilma and your husband is he?”

  “Zeus,” Mavis said with a chuckle. “He loved a toga.”

  Amber found her glasses and put them on to see. “He is adorable!”

  “I keep hoping to be able to bounce another one just like him on my knee.” She sighed.

  Charlene nudged Amber and winked.

  “Now, I have a surprise,” Mavis said. “I stopped by the dress shop on my way home.”

  “Momma Mavis you shouldn’t have,” Charlene said as both Katie and Mavis left the room. “Oh, boy!” she whispered to Amber and Jessie. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

  “Another polyester blue suit?” Jessie giggled.

  “Oh, dang,” Charlene said, slapping her thigh. “This is too funny!”

  “Admittedly, the first time I saw him,” Amber said, “I thought of him as an avenging angel.”

  “Jonathan an angel? Maybe a fallen one.” Charlene snorted. “No, I still say Hercules.”

  “A Greek god.” Amber nodded, taking a sip of champagne. “Most definitely.”

  “Just let me put the finishing touches on,” Gloria said as she opened the tube of mascara.

  Amber took her glasses off again and let her apply it. She’d used it a few times before when her hair was dyed dark.

  “I really like this shade of lipstick,” Charlene said as she scooted over to pick up the tube.

  Crunch!

  “Oh, please don’t tell me,” Charlene groaned. “Sugar, you’re going to kill me!”

  “What happened?” Gloria asked.

  “I’ve squashed Amber’s glasses,” Charlene said, picking them up. “I’ll get you a new pair, hon.”

  “What is your prescription?” Gloria asked, peeking through the lenses. “I can see through these. You know, I may have a pair that will work for you.”

  “Really?” Charlene placed her hand over her heart. “That would make me feel so much better.”

  Gloria went to her room and returned a moment later. “Here, try these.”

  “I don’t want to take your glasses,” Amber said.

  “Nonsense, you have to see.” Gloria held them out. “Let’s take a look.”

  “Oh, those are cute,” Charlene said. “Now I’m almost glad I did that. And tomorrow when we get you a new pair, I’m helping you find frames like those!”

  Amber smiled her thanks, realizing there might very well be a conspiracy between the ladies to improve her looks.

  Mavis returned with three garment bags. “Here they are,” she sang as she danced into the room.

  “And here are the shoes.” Katie followed her in.

  Charlene peeked inside her box. “Shut up!” she squealed, lifting a pair of black and white stilettos from the box. “Hank is going to flip when he gets a load of these!”

  ~*~

  Hank looked over as yet another table next to them filled up with women. He nodded at a different group of ladies who had just sent another pitcher of beer. “Cheers.” He lifted his glass, grinning from ear to ear. “This is the damndest thing I’ve ever seen.” He looked back at Harold and shook his head. “What’s in that?”

  “Any thoughts of straying from Charlene?” Jacques asked the question on everyone’s mind.

  “Hell, no,” Hank said. “But I’m going to be real happy to see her.” He wiggled his eyebrows up and down suggestively.

  Harold noted that in his little book while everyone else at the table looked at their other test subject.

  Jonathan sighed, folded his arms over his chest, and sat back with an expression of frustration. “Don’t ask.”

  As he spoke, Tom came into the bar and walked over to the table. He rubbed his nose and checked the bottom of his boot. “Thought I’d find you here,” Tom said to Jonathan.

  “Why is that?” Jonathan asked.

  “Your truck is outside for one,” Tom said. “But someone has painted outer-space alien on it and smashed your headlights out.”

  Jonathan looked up to see Patricia glance over at him smugly and then gather her purse and coat.

  “You wouldn’t know who might have done that would you?” Tom asked, looking over at Patricia as she left through the front door.

  “I might have an idea,” Jonathan said.

  “Are you going to do anything about it?” Tom asked.

  “Nope,” Jonathan said, rubbing his chin.

  “Good, because I don’t have time to write another report today,” Tom said. “As it is, I only stopped in to let you know that the shooting suspect escaped from the psych ward.

  “You’re kidding, non?” Jacques asked.

  “No.” Tom sighed. “I was actually on my way over to Katie’s when I saw your truck.” His cell phone rang. “What’s the score?” he asked as he picked it up and answered it. “Hi, honey. No, don’t hold dinner. I’m sorry. I just have another stop on the way home and then—” He sighed, looking down at the men. “That right there is why policemen have such high divorce rates.” He looked at the big screen. “Can’t remember the last time I watched a game.”

  “Why don’t you go home to your missus, and we’ll go back to the house,” Jonathan said.

  “What about your lights?” Tom asked.

  “I can follow Harold in his Buick,” Jonathan said.

  “Tell you what,” Tom said, “I’ll follow you with the lights until you get off the highway.”

  “Sounds good,” René said. All the men vacated the booth and headed for the door which left both sexes seated in the bar fanning themselves in Jonathan and Hank’s wake, but for two separate reasons. “What is it about Old Spice?” Shelly asked when they passed her. “That’s not Old Spice,” a man seated at the bar said.

  “What is that smell?” Tom inspected his boots again as they walked to Jonathan’s truck. “I did want to mention,” Tom said, “that something unusual went down at The Oaks tonight.”

  “Unusual?” Jonathan asked as he surveyed the damage to his truck.

  “There was a witness to the shooter’s
disappearance,” Tom said. “A Miss Dimity.”

  “The old librarian?” Jonathan asked.

  “One and the same.” Tom nodded. “She was in a state of hysterics asking for Valium when I spoke to her,” he said, also looking at the damage to the truck.

  “What did she say?” Jonathan asked.

  Tom shook his head and looked at him. “You won’t believe it.”

  “Try me.”

  “She said he changed into a cherub right in front of her eyes and flew away.” Tom shook his head.

  “Non?” Jacques said.

  Tom nodded. “It may be awhile before I can get to the bottom of it.”

  “I’ll keep an eye on Miss Smith,” Jonathan said.

  ~*~

  “Get out!” Charlene said when Jessie turned around.

  “I feel like a princess,” Jessie said as she looked down at the little black dress she was wearing.

  “The fuchsia heels really pop,” Charlene said, looking at her.

  “Speaking of popping,” Jessie laughed, “you are busting out of the top. I don’t even think the busy bee has that much cleavage.”

  Charlene chuckled. She was wearing a white sweater with sequins and a little black skirt that was absolutely adorable. “Hank’s eyes are going to pop that is for dang sure!” she said as she knocked on the closet door. “Girl, are you coming out of there, or do I need to send someone in after you?”

  Amber zipped up the red dress that she had been given to wear and looked down at it. She’d never worn anything this form fitting . . . or short. She looked at the closet full of clothes and wondered if she should change back and say it didn’t fit.

  “Hurry up,” Charlene said. “Flora, Fauna, and Merryweather are waiting to see their handiwork.

  “That fits!” Jessie cracked up over the names.

  “C’mon it’s just us girls,” Charlene coaxed.

  Amber took a big breath, glad that the spandex type material stretched, or she wouldn’t have been able to breathe at all as tight as it was. “Here goes nothing,” she said before opening the door.

  “Oh, my goodness!” Charlene breathed.

  “I think I’m going to cry,” Jessie said, fanning her eyes. “You should see yourself.”

  Amber glanced at the mirror that had been covered by a sheet.

  “They said no peeking,” Charlene reminded them.