“Tell us why we’re here,” Muriel said. “What do we have to do with the boxes?”
“I needed a detective,” she said.
Muriel noted she said I and not we, but she didn’t point it out. “Because you couldn’t find the boxes? Yet, Mrs. Wiggins—the late Mrs. Wiggins—gave me one. Did she not want to give it to you? Why? Were you all fighting? Were you all planning on doing different rituals?”
“That’s really not your affair,” Phee said.
“But it is if you wanted us to find them,” Ewan said. “You couldn’t have found a detective here in town? Why didn’t you go to Inspector Buckley? I’m sure he would have been happy to help you find them, since they prove your involvement in a murder.”
“That young woman gave her life to the cause,” Phee sad.
“As another young woman will on Monday evening?” Muriel asked.
“It’s for a good cause,” Phee said once again.
“I still don’t understand why you drew us into this,” Muriel said.
“We needed someone to find the boxes,” Phee said, her words slow. “If I have to draw it out for you, Mr. Holmes was constantly telling my father what brilliant detectives you are, how you locate things and solve puzzles.”
“But you couldn’t tell us the truth because it would make you look bad,” Ewan said. “You couldn’t go to the police and say you needed help in finding your ritual items. That would make you the prime suspect in the murder of that young woman—what was her name—Chastity Wilks? Tell me, Phee, was she a friend of yours, or did you kidnap her from London? What sort of woman allows another woman to be murdered?”
Muriel watched Phee as Ewan spoke. The woman’s expression didn’t change. Her eyes were cold, and her mouth was set in a flat line.
“And who is Sisto Frae? And Mr. Hulsey?” Muriel asked.
“There is no Sisto Frae,” Phee said. “We needed a name to give you and one that was very uncommon, so no one would say they knew him. Mr. Hulsey was, in fact, Mr. Wiggins. If you saw him in the house, he needed a way to introduce himself.”
Silence reigned. Muriel couldn’t help but think these people were so far gone that they needed to be admitted to a lunatic asylum.
“There are four boxes,” Phee finally said. “We have one. I need the other three by Monday.”
“And you are sitting here doing nothing,” Muriel said. “That is a shame.”
“I am doing something about it, Muriel, if I may call you that.”
“I’m Mrs. McClacken,” Muriel said.
“Oh, but I am doing something about it, Mrs. McClacken,” Phee said. Her mouth curved up into a smile. “You and I are going up to Monford. Your husband is going to stay here, in Bangor, and search for the other three boxes. He has until Monday to find them. If he doesn’t then you will join the young lady who is helping us Monday evening.”
“Helping you?” Muriel said with a laugh. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell her that the authorities were watching the area where they’d killed Chastity Wilks.
“You’re asking the impossible,” Ewan said. “There is no way I can find the other three boxes so quickly.”
“Then Mr. Holmes greatly exaggerated your abilities,” she said. “You will do it, or your wife will die.”
Phee stood. “Now, we’re leaving before it gets light and Buckley shows up. Don’t worry, we’ll take good care of her, make sure she’s fed and has a warm place to sleep at night.”
Muriel’s heart pounded. She glanced at Ewan, who was shaking his hands as if to loosen the ropes.
“If you try anything I will kill her,” Phee said. “You know I’m capable of it.”
“Take me,” Ewan said. “Muriel is better at finding things. The chances of her locating the boxes are much better than me doing it.”
“So, she’s a better detective then you are?”
“She’s better at solving puzzles,” Ewan said.
Muriel stared at him. She understood what he was doing, making it so that if something went wrong he would be the one in danger. But she wouldn’t have it. She opened her mouth to say just that, but he stood so quickly the chair he’d been sitting in almost tumbled over onto its side.
“That is how things are going to go,” he said, his voice steely. “If you disagree then you can go to Hell. I will not allow you to keep my wife as a hostage.”
“Ewan,” Muriel began, but he cut her off.
“And don’t think of leaving her with a minder, either. If you do I will raise such a ruckus that the whole neighborhood will know something is wrong. You won’t get your precious boxes, and you most certainly won’t be able to perform your ritual, because I will tell every officer that shows up that you are responsible for Mrs. Wiggins’ death.”
Muriel had never heard Ewan talk that way.
“I’m not letting them take you,” she said.
“You will,” he countered. She wanted to reply but he lifted one finger and said, “Don’t.” Then he turned to Phee. “I want to talk to my wife for a moment, alone.”
“No,” she said, and then she laughed.
“Fine.” Ewan yelled the word, “Fuck,” at the top of his lungs, and then he let out a whoop that Muriel was sure would wake the people in London.
“What are you doing?” Phee asked. She rushed to the door, opened it and looked out. When she returned she motioned to one of the goons who had come with her.
“Gag him.”
“If you think for one second, we are going to make this easy for you then you are sorely mistaken,” Muriel said. She paused before she continued, “My husband wants to talk to me. I suggest you and your friends go to the other room and allow us to speak. If not, we will both be screaming at the top of our lungs.”
For a moment, Muriel thought Phee would tell her to go to the devil. But she noticed that none of the goons had moved to gag Ewan.
“Why should I trust you?” Phee said.
“Why should we trust you?” Muriel asked. “You say if we find the other three boxes you’ll let us go. I don’t believe you.”
“I never said that,” she said. “But I will allow you a chance to speak. My friends and I will go in the other room. I have to warn you, if you try to run I will kill you both and take my chances with the boxes.”
Neither Muriel nor Ewan responded.
“I’ll take that as an assent,” Phee said. She walked into the other room and the three men who were with her followed.
She hurried to Ewan and grasped his hands with hers, despite the fact that both of their wrists were tied together.
“When we’re gone, go back to London,” he said. “But don’t go on the train; Jameson will know. Hire a carriage.”
“I won’t leave you,” she said.
“And what, you’ll stay so both of us can die?”
Tears filled her eyes at his words. She could see that his words affected him, too. He also looked as if he might cry.
“I love you,” he said. “Promise me you’ll leave.”
“I won’t promise you,” she said. “The fourth box has to be here somewhere. I’ll find it. I’ll go back to Pregarin’s house. It has to be there.”
“You’ll do as I say,” he said.
Muriel didn’t want to argue the point, and she knew her husband well enough to know that if she continued to go against what he was saying he would find a way to force things.
“If you say so,” she said, being careful not to say that she would do as he wanted. The moment he was gone she would find that fourth box. That meant she needed to put on a good face for Phee. “If she thinks I’m going to run the moment you’re out the door she won’t leave with you. You know that.”
“I do,” he said. “That means you need to play it out with her. But you must leave, Muriel. I don’t want you in danger.”
“But it’s okay for me to leave you, knowing you will probably die if I do?” She pushed away from him. “How am I supposed to live with myself then?”
&
nbsp; He looked away and Muriel laughed, praying it would break the tension between them.
“What are you laughing about?” he asked.
“The two of us, here, with our hands tied.” She gently poked him in the stomach. “Usually it’s only one of us who is tied up. How does it feel?”
“It’s not something I would like to get used to,” he said. He opened his mouth, and Muriel was sure he was going to tell her to get out, but Phee came in.
“It’s time to go,” she said. “One of my scouts tells me the officers are out and about. We don’t want to be here when they arrive to look around a murder victim’s home.”
“I’m sure they’ve already been here,” Muriel said.
“They’ll be back.” She snapped her fingers. “Take him, now. Mrs. McClacken, I’m sure you will be able to find your way to Monford as soon as you’ve found the other three boxes.”
“I’m not a child,” Muriel said. “The last thing you should ever do, Phee, is underestimate me.”
“Indeed,” Phee said. “We’ll see you no later than Monday afternoon.”
“I love you,” she yelled at Ewan as the men pulled him out of the door.
She heard him say, “I love you, too! Remember what I said.”
When they were gone, Muriel felt as if her knees would drop out from under her. She wanted to pick something up and throw it, but at that very moment she realized her hands were still tied.
She pulled on the ropes, rubbing them against her skin. It would leave marks she knew and probably make her wrists bleed. She was getting nowhere, except for the fact that her frustration was growing.
How could Ewan think she would just leave? He wouldn’t just leave her. She had to find the boxes, get up to Monford and find a way to rescue him from the woman they were supposed to be searching for, a woman who had turned out to be the bad guy in the situation.
The neighbors might think badly of her when she went to their front door with her wrists bound.
“This is more than a pickle,” she said.
“You’re right, it is.”
Muriel turned to the doorway where Inspector Buckley stood. “Mrs. McClacken.” He looked pointedly at her wrists. “May I be of some assistance?”
Chapter 23
The sun was high in the sky when Muriel stepped down from the carriage in Monford. No matter how hard she had searched, with the help of Inspector Buckley and his underlings, she hadn’t found a trace of the fourth box. She’d looked in Mrs. Wiggin’s house, and in Mr. Pregarin’s. In fact, they’d torn apart both places and not found anything.
In the wake of their unsuccessful searches, a friend of Buckley’s had made a box roughly the same size as the second one that she’d found in the tinder pile. She had it in her reticule right now, ready with the other two, ready to deliver to Phee, except the woman had never told her where to find her.
During a middle of the night talk at Mrs. Wiggins’ house, where Muriel had been staying, Inspector Buckley told her about the site where the ritual had taken place last year.
“We’ve been watching it, and no one has been nearby,” he’d said. “We think they have set up a different site this year, but we’re not sure where. So, here’s the plan. You go to the address she sent you yesterday to wait as instructed, take the two full boxes and keep the third one, the one we made. Tell her you won’t give it to her until you see your husband.”
“And then what?” Muriel had asked. “What if she just decides she doesn’t need me anymore and kills me?”
“Take a revolver in with you,” Buckley had said. “Or a knife—to protect yourself.”
“Protect myself? What about my husband? Surely you have a better idea than just letting me go in there with a weapon.” Muriel had thrown her hands up in disgust. “This is a smart woman we’re dealing with. She masterminded the whole thing. She’s the reason we’re here. We need to come up with something to catch her off guard.”
So, they’d talked, and the only plan they had was that Muriel had to talk to Phee. It had been her idea to go in with none of the boxes. That, hopefully, would put Phee on edge, anger her because they were so close to the time their ritual needed to be done, and she didn’t have the equipment she needed.
But something told her things would get worse before they got better. The thought passed through her as she looked around, waiting for someone to approach her and lead her to Phee.
Monford was a village, and the people walking down the streets stared at the carriage that Muriel had hired. Well, that she was riding in, actually. The driver who supposedly owned the rig was actually a police officer, sent to protect Muriel from any danger that might come from the events about to take place.
She glanced up at the driver, who was looking off in the distance. Muriel followed his gaze and saw Phee standing at the edge of a copse of trees. Her hands were crossed in front of her and there was a smile on her face.
“Don’t go,” the driver said, his voice so soft that Muriel almost missed the words.
She couldn’t blame him for trying to stop her. She knew Buckley had taken him aside before they’d left Bangor and told him to watch out for her. While she appreciated the sentiment, his help would only hinder her.
“I have to see about my husband,” she said. “I can take care of myself.”
Before he could argue she walked toward Phee. When Muriel was within a few feet she stopped and glared at the younger woman.
“Where is my husband?”
“I see you’re empty handed,” Phee said. “That disappoints me, unless you left the boxes in the carriage. Did you leave the boxes in the carriage, Muriel?”
Phee sounded as if she were talking to a two-year-old, which made Muriel glare at her.
“Where is my husband?”
“Where are my boxes?”
“No boxes without seeing my husband,” Muriel said.
“And you won’t see your husband until I have my boxes,” Phee countered.
“Then I suppose we are at an impasse,” Muriel said. “And if you think I’m going to change my mind you are sorely mistaken.”
“I can say the same thing,” Phee said. “I suppose I will just tell my men to kill your husband.”
“And I suppose you will have to perform your ritual without the book, and the knife,” Muriel said. She prayed Phee didn’t notice that she didn’t mention another missing item, which would give away the fact that she didn’t know what was in the third box.
“You’re willing to risk your husband’s life?” Phee asked. She didn’t sound like she was talking to a child anymore. She sounded like she was angry. Very, very angry.
Muriel was sure she was pressing her luck, but she said, “You’re willing to risk your ritual. It must be done tonight, right? Or else you have to wait another year. Or, you could wait forever because if something happens to Ewan, I will never tell you where the boxes are.”
Phee’s face was like stone, and for a moment Muriel thought she had pushed things too far. But then the younger woman laughed. “You’re very good at this, Muriel. You know your husband seemed to think you wouldn’t be here. Perhaps you think more of him than he does of you.”
Muriel licked her lips to keep from breaking into a smile. “Where is he?”
“Well, much like you I didn’t bring the package to Monford.” Phee took a step toward her, and it was all Muriel could do to stay in place. She didn’t think the woman would hurt her before she had the boxes, but then again Phee was unpredictable.
“I want my things, Muriel,” Phee said. “I’m sure they’re in the carriage you just got out of. What’s to stop me from killing you, taking my things and then killing your husband?”
“Go ahead and look,” Muriel said. “They’re not there. If you kill me, you won’t find them—ever. Listen, Phee, I won’t give you what you want until I see Ewan. I won’t go any other way.”
Muriel’s stomach was in knots. If Phee called her bluff, there was no going back. She said
a silent prayer that her face was like stone, that she wasn’t showing her fear.
“Fine, I’ll take you to your husband,” Phee said. “But I want to know where the boxes are if they are not in the carriage.”
She had expected this. “Two of them are in my bags at the inn where I am staying. The other one is hidden.” Very well hidden, she said to herself. I didn’t find it or come close.
Muriel looked back at the carriage. The officer still sat there, his hands on the reins. She could see he was watching them carefully. She knew there were other officers standing around, ready to follow them when Phee led her to Ewan. There had been quite a row about this part of the plan. She was sure Phee would show her to the ritual site, which the police had been unable to find.
“My men will be discreet,” Buckley had said. “They will be dressed as village residents, and there will be more there than you know. We have to stop these people before they kill someone else.”
He was right, of course, but more than that she worried about Ewan. It had been hard for her to sleep, wondering where he was, or even if he was still alive. She wondered if they were feeding him, or if he was in some cold place, shivering in the cold.
Right now, she wanted to do nothing more than reach out and slap Phee across the face. No, better than that, she wanted to pummel Phee until the woman couldn’t speak anymore.
“You have no soul,” Muriel said.
Phee laughed. “You’ll think that when we have Excalibur and the queen has to give way to me.”
“It’s a myth, Phee,” Muriel said. “The queen has guards, men who will kill you on sight when you go to the palace wielding a sword.”
Phee laughed. “I have Raef, who is a descendent of Merlin.”
“Really? What magic has he produced for you? If he is a magician, why couldn’t he find the boxes for you? Why did you have to pull us into this?”
This was not part of the plan, and Muriel was worried she was putting a stop to what they’d just agreed upon. She stared at Phee, who was again glaring at her as if she might reach out and break Muriel’s neck.
Muriel’s Adventures Page 28
