by Fitz Molly
Chapter Thirteen
I blinked twice because I couldn’t believe I was seeing who I was seeing. “You?” I shook my head. “You killed Cornelius Mayfield?”
Jennifer Cardinal laughed and then yanked me from inside the closet. I glanced down at John and quickly shook my head. I needed him to back off until I got to the truth.
She yanked on my arm and whipped me into the wall. “Don’t move.”
The gun pointed at my head was reason enough for me to stay still, at least for the time being. “I don’t understand.”
She waved the gun at me. “Where’s the jewelry?”
“I…I…how do you know there’s jewelry here?”
“How do you think I know? My loser ex-husband told me.”
“He knows you killed Mr. Mayfield?”
She waved the gun and laughed. “Of course not. That man wouldn’t know a snake if it bit him in the butt. But he is smart enough to know I was setting him up. Since you had to come snooping around my business, I needed to throw him under the bus. Not that he didn’t deserve it. He was an awful husband. And it was perfect, really. I tell you I wasn’t with him the night that old man drank a glass of scotch and arsenic before bed, and naturally you assume he’s the killer. It’s a win-win, don’t you see?”
“I guess not.”
“I get away with murder, and he goes to jail and suffers just like I did the whole time I was married to the jerk.”
“Why did you kill him? What did Mr. Mayfield do to you?”
“I didn’t want to kill him, but I couldn’t let him go. He saw me in the attic. I had the jewelry. What was I supposed to do, just hand it over and hope for the best? Do you even know how much that stuff is worth?”
“It’s not real.”
“It sure is, and when you give me the rest of it, I’ll have a complete set, which will make it even more valuable.”
I laughed. “There isn’t any more jewelry, Jennifer. I made that up to catch a killer. To catch you.”
Mr. Mayfield appeared next to Jennifer. “I remember. It was her. She was the one rifling through my desk.”
“Jennifer was the one going through the desk?”
She waved the gun at me. “Shut up!”
She couldn’t see Mr. Mayfield and thought I was talking to her.
“She had on a black and red plaid shirt, the kind Jacob always wore. And a baseball cap. An Atlanta Braves one. He always wore a Braves hat when he worked.”
“You dressed like Jacob. You wanted Mr. Mayfield to think it was him.”
She waved the gun again. “I said, shut up!”
“She asked me for the jewelry. She threatened to kill me, but promised she wouldn’t if I gave it to her.”
“He showed you where the jewelry was because you promised not to kill him, but you lied.”
“How…how…” Her voice shook, and her bravery lost steam and died.
I didn’t give her a chance to bring it back to life. “Jacob told you about the jewelry, didn’t he?”
“He…he heard the old man fighting with his daughter. He said he had her written out of the will, and everything, including the family jewelry, was going to be sold. They wouldn’t get anything.”
“I remember that now,” he said. “I didn’t know Jacob was there. I didn’t know he heard us.”
“He remembers now. He had that talk with his daughter, and Jacob heard. Then you showed up and forced him to give you the jewelry. You promised you wouldn’t kill him, but you poisoned his scotch. You let him think you wouldn’t kill him, and then you let him go to bed and die. And you let me think your husband was a suspect, only you screwed up. No, wait. Your ex-husband is smarter than you. He knew you’d thrown him under the bus, and he set you up. He knew I was trying to out a killer, and he knew you’d come here looking for the rest of the jewelry, so he told you what I said. And here you are.”
Her hand shook, and the gun pointed toward the ground. I smiled at Mr. Mayfield. “Is there anything you can do? Anything to make it so she can see you?”
“Shut up!” She screamed. “Stop talking like that!”
“He’s here, you know, Mr. Mayfield? He’s telling me everything.”
“I said, shut up!”
Mr. Mayfield closed his eyes and stretched his hands out to the ceiling. A bright white light outlined his body and shined throughout the room.
Jennifer Cardinal’s eyes widened. “No! No! It’s…” She dropped the gun and fell to the ground.
I rushed over and kicked the gun to the side just in time for the door to open and Tyler Raines to burst in, his gun drawn and pointed straight at me. Mr. Mayfield disappeared, and the glow along with him.
* * *
“I can’t believe you didn’t let me help you with any of it.” Abershama sat on the Andersons’ front porch with her knees pulled close to her chest. “I totally would have loved it.”
“It wasn’t personal. I just got in a groove, and things happened.”
“And yet you still don’t have a date with Officer Hottie.”
“You’ve been talking to Maggie, haven’t you?”
“The friend of my friend is my friend. At least when it comes to getting you a date with that cutie pie.”
“You can go back and tell your friend twice removed or whatever, that Officer Raines and I are having dinner next week.”
Her eyes popped open, and little points sprang from her nails. I eyed them, and she covered them right away. “Sorry, the wolf in me comes out when I’m excited.”
I laughed.
“Are you sure there’s no more jewelry?”
I nodded.
“It’s too bad you didn’t get to say goodbye to Mr. Mayfield. Does that bother you?”
“A little. But not because I wanted him to thank me or anything. I genuinely liked him.”
“He was a very nice man.”
John crawled over and sniffed her. “Ick.” He rubbed his nose. “Smells like she rolled in roadkill.”
“Yuck.” She flicked at my familiar, and he rolled away. “Familiar or not, I don’t want that rodent near me.”
“Did she just call me a rodent?”
I laughed and patted Abershama on the knee. “I think you need to stock up on Havarti cheese.”
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Kitty Cat Caper
Stephanie Damore
About This Single
Halloween hijinx abound in Silverlake this year, keeping Angelica on her toes, and making this a spooky night no one will ever forget. Will Silverlake survive the spookiest day of the year? Or will mischievous forces get their way?
Where It Fits
KITTY CAT CAPER can be read as a stand-alone, but chronologically it fits between TALL, DARK AND HAIRY and MEOWING FOR KEEPS …Enjoy!
Chapter One
"Two more bats and I think that'll do it," I said aloud to myself while putting the finishing touches on the bookstore's decorations. My friend and store's owner, Misty, had decided to host a Halloween party at the bookstore tonight, complete with costumes and spooky stories. Unfortunately, or maybe it should be fortunately, the store was swamped lately and Misty simply hadn't had the time to decorate. That's where I stepped in, spending the day stringing glittery orange garland around the crown molding, blowing up purple and green balloons, and strategically hanging sparkling sequin bats from the ceiling.
"Meow?"
I looked down to where a black cat stood under my open ladder. "Where did you come from?" I asked while affixing a piece of tape to the string. The bat dangled the perfect height just above the front door. The cat stared up quizzically at the decoration as if she'd love nothing more than to swat at it. "Is your owner nearby?" I asked the cat while hanging up the last bat. The cat
didn't reply, and honestly, it could've gone either way. Living in an enchanted town, you never knew what to expect. I should know. I felt the weight of the tiger eye stone on my chest--a magical necklace and family heirloom that granted me the power to transform into a feline myself.
"You know, it's bad luck having a black cat under a ladder like that," Misty said to me after ringing up a customer and wishing them a happy Halloween.
"Hush now. Like this adorable cat would curse me." No sooner were the words out of my mouth did Aunt Thelma rush in the door and walk right into the ladder. The force of her impact rocked the ladder away from me and I pitched forward, clinging precariously to the doorframe. The ladder crashed into the book display, tipping over a decorative, bubbling cauldron. Water spilled onto the floor and sent the cat scurrying with a disapproving yowl. Let me tell you, water and bookstores don't mix.
"Save the books!" Misty shouted, grabbing a roll of paper towels from under the counter and racing forward. I dropped down from the doorframe, thankful I was dangling only a couple feet off the ground. Together, we sopped up as much water as possible while Aunt Thelma righted the ladder and used her shawl to wipe off the book jackets. Misty ran to the back storage room and came back with a couple hand towels. We worked to thoroughly dry everything. Thankfully the floor took most of the damage.
My aunt touched my arm and opened her mouth as if to ask, Are you all right? But instead, "RIBBIT?" came out. Aunt Thelma's hand flew up to her throat. She coughed and shook her head.
"What was that?" I asked.
"RIBBIT. JUG-O-RUM. CROAK," Aunt Thelma tried again.
"What is going on?" Misty asked, concern etched on her face.
"RIBBIT! PLUNK! JUG-O-RUM!" A chorus of frog sounds came out of Aunt Thelma's mouth. Her eyes were wide and her arms flailed around.
"Have you been spelled?" I asked.
Aunt Thelma held up her hands as if to say I don't know. Shopping bags from the Village Square shops slid down from her wrists to her elbows. From the looks of it, she had been all over the outdoor shopping district with purchases from the bakery, candle store, and yarn shop.
"Well, if it's a spell, that should be an easy fix," Misty looked to me to reverse the spell, but I wasn't about to try. Last time someone tried to spell someone in the bookstore, if hadn't ended well. Plus, half the time, my spells ended in disaster. Just ask my ex-boyfriend. Sensing my hesitation, Misty pulled out her own wand, aimed it at my aunt, and said, "Tixi," which was the general counterspell.
Aunt Thelma went to speak. I crossed my fingers.
"RIBBIT." The sound rolled off her tongue. Aunt Thelma's shoulders dropped.
"What does that mean? Is it a curse?" I asked them.
"I think so," Misty replied. A line was forming at the register again and Misty was called away by an employee.
I turned to my aunt. "How long have you been croaking for?" She held up a finger in response. "One day?" I guessed. I hadn't seen my aunt this morning at the inn she owned, and I managed. She shook her head no. "One hour?" I tried again. Aunt Thelma huffed and walked over to the register, where Misty supplied her with a pen and paper.
She scribbled a reply. Just now! Was her response followed with, I'm going to the tea shop.
"Good idea. Maybe Clemmie will know what to do." My aunt's best friend sold plenty of herbal remedies at her store, Sit For A Spell. Maybe she had one for frog curses. If not, I was sure she'd know what to do, like call Charity, the local doctor and healer.
"Good luck. I'll check in with you in a bit," I said.
Aunt Thelma left with a nod and a croak.
I surveyed the bookstore. Guests were starting to arrive for the party. The decorations looked great, even the cauldron, which was now set up outside. A battery-operated green LED light was placed in the middle with dry ice overflowing from the top and blowing out into the evening air. The sun was setting, streaking the sky in purple and orange. The air had a slight nip to it, a refreshing change after the scorching summer days that had lingered in the south.
"Can you do me a favor?" Misty asked.
I was just about to change into my own costume, a simple red velvet cloak and a handbasket portraying my favorite childhood spooky story, Little Red Riding Hood, but that would only take a second. "Whatcha need?"
"I forgot to grab the candied apples and pumpkin truffles from The Candy Cauldron."
"On it. Be back in a few minutes." I donned my red cape and left a moment later.
Chapter Two
Outside, the Village Square stores were on full display. Each of the storybook shops rose to the occasion. Candles flickered from jack-o-lanterns, fake cobwebs clung to the bushes, and ghosts swayed in the breeze blowing in from the lake. Across the street, an enormous hay maze had taken over Wishing Well Park courtesy of the city council -- even if the mayor didn't approve the plan. Mayor Parrish disapproved everyone's ideas that weren't her own. That was her problem though, not mine.
A line snaked out the door at the candy shop, The Candy Cauldron. It appeared to be the first stop for all the incoming trick-or-treaters. No one could resist the pull of the saltwater taffy that was being mechanically stretched in the front window. I knew I couldn't. The sticky orange candy was twisted and pulled until it was uniform in color and consistency. It was mesmerizing to watch. Or maybe it was the smell of the homemade fudge as it cooled on the marble countertop. Rocky Road was my favorite flavor and the shop's specialty. The sweet treat was rich and creamy, packed with peanuts and marshmallows. My mouth watered just thinking about it.
I cut in line, walking around the princesses, superheroes, ghosts, cowboys, and their parents and snuck inside. Glass display cases filled three out of the four sides of the rectangular-shaped store with the back wall full of candy sold by the pound. I spotted my second favorite--mini gummy frogs--with their bright, neon colored tops and marshmallow bottoms, but in light of Aunt Thelma's curse, I thought I'd pass on them tonight. It would be a while before I looked at frog candy the same.
Fudge, pralines made from pecans harvested right outside the door, and truffles were just some of the homemade confections Luke, the owner of The Candy Cauldron, specialized in. Speaking of which, Luke was dashing behind the counter, boxing up orders and ringing them up at warp speed. But no matter how fast he worked, the line never got shorter. Luke caught my eye as I stood off to the side, much like a bartender does at a packed club on a Friday night, but instead of slinging drinks, he was slinging chocolate. A much better gig, in my opinion.
"Misty sent me to grab the bookstore’s order," I said over the crowd.
"Right. In the back." As Luke spoke, a loud crash came from the kitchen. He cringed. "My nieces are back there, helping," he used air quotes around the last word.
"Tonight? I can't believe they're not out trick-or-treating." I knew Luke's twin nieces, Sabrina and Beatrice, from the bookstore. They came in with their mom, Sally, on Saturday mornings when I stopped in to visit Misty. Sally was a nurse at the small community hospital on the other side of the lake. Saturday mornings are my official day off. I liked to spend them walking to Village Square for a coffee and scone from the bakery, La Luna, before wandering around the bookstore. Seeing I spent the previous decade denying I was a witch (which after being raised by my aunt in Silverlake, I knew better), I was in serious need of a witch's refresher course. Enter the world of books, where a person could learn anything if they knew how to read. I had already read through Misty's collection of charm books and next up I was tackling magical defense -- although some may argue I should've started with protection spells given my recent ventures (but that's a story for another day).
"My sister has to work, and I promised I'd take them, but I don't think that's going to happen,” Luke looked around the store.
"Halloween and candy go hand-in-hand, don't they?" The lined behind me continued to grow.
"They do and add to the fact that my crew called in sick, and we're busier than ever..." Luke's voice trailed off an
d I knew he had to get back to work. I would volunteer to lend him a hand if I wasn't already helping down at the bookstore. I was sure Aunt Thelma would too if she wasn't croaking. I suppose I could ask Percy the poltergeist -- the groundkeeper at the inn -- if he was free, but despite Aunt Thelma's insistence that Percy had matured, I had yet to see it. And a poltergeist in a candy store on Halloween spelled disaster. But maybe I could help in another way.
"I can run the back and grab the order for you, and your nieces are more than welcome to come down to the party at the bookstore. Maybe it'll keep them out of trouble?"
"Yeah, if they want to, that would be great."
"Okay, I'll see." I got out of the way and let Luke get back to work.
The kitchen of The Candy Cauldron was a chocolate lover’s dream come true. The countertops were full of hardening Halloween chocolates--miniature white chocolate pumpkins, chocolate pretzel skeletons, and pointed witches’ hats filled with caramel.
"See what it tastes like if you add caramel," Sabrina said to her sister Beatrice.
"Oh, good idea and maybe some sea salt," Beatrice replied. The girls, who were about ten years old, were busy whisking bowls of melted chocolate. Both were dressed up as witches with black gauzy gowns and pointed hats sitting askew on their red curly hair.
"Hey girls, your uncle told me you were back here," I said, interrupting the candy-making duo.
"Hi Angelica," the girls said in unison. "Want to try our new caramel chocolate truffles?" Beatrice asked.
"With sea salt," Sabrina added, sprinkling the salt in as she said it.
"Uh, sure. Can I take one with me?" The lumpy balls of chocolate cooling beside them were a far cry from the gourmet ones Luke served out front, but I didn't want to hurt the girls' feelings.
