Cupid's Treasure - Mystery of the Golden Arrow (5 page)

“Thank you.” Amber smiled back shyly. She wasn’t used to so many people fussing over her. She also wasn’t prepared for what the waves of compassion made her feel. Amber adjusted her glasses and sniffed, trying to fight back the tears that threatened. She didn’t normally cry. . . .
It is just the stress of the day.

“That’s okay, sweetheart,” Gloria said, hugging her to her quickly. “Let’s just get you inside.”

As Amber walked up the stairs, yet another woman appeared on the porch next to the gentleman who was with the other one’s daughter. Amber thought it was all getting a little confusing as she looked at the woman who looked exactly like the one with yellow hair, only this one had bright red. She did a double take.

“And this is Ms. Katie,” Jonathan said. “They are twins.”

“
Ciao
, darlin’. Let’s get you inside and into some warm bubbles.” Katie grinned.

“And this fine gentleman is Jacques,” Jonathan said as the thirty year old man chuckled and smiled.

“A pleasure to meet you,” he said.

Amber immediately recognized his voice from the earlier call that Jonathan had made. Though why he would call this young man Grandpa was beyond her.

“I also have a pot of homemade chicken soup if anyone is hungry,” Jessie said.

“Now you’re talking my language!” Jonathan said. “Where is Harold?”

“He’s in the attic, dear,” Gloria said.

Jonathan looked at Amber. “I’ll leave you in these women’s capable hands and catch up with you later.” He smiled. “Are you okay?”

It was the umpteenth time he’d asked it, but this time she nodded.

“Good,” Jonathan said. “You look a little overwhelmed, but that’s to be expected I think.” He winked as he tapped his finger on her nose before leaving.

Amber was not only dumbfounded by her feelings for him, dazed by her day, overwhelmed by the new faces, but also stunned that, in this moment, it didn’t even matter. She wanted the comfort the friendship offered, if only for the night. She’d denied it for so long. . . . Would it be so very wrong of her to want to feel loved and not so alone if just for the next half hour even? “A bath sounds very good.”

~*~

Jonathan climbed the ladder to the attic and wondered what had hit him. A ton of bricks out of nowhere couldn’t have been more surprising. “Harold, are you up here?” he called out.

“Over here,” an older gentleman wearing a lab coat answered from the corner where a blue test tube was glowing, offering light as he took notes.

“How is it going?” Jonathan asked.

“Good,” Harold said as he checked through the microscope at his elbow. “So far the blood sample you provided seems impervious to everything.”

“With one exception,” Jonathan amended as Harold looked up at him curiously. “I was struck by this tonight.” He took the arrow out of his pocket and handed it over to the older man who clicked on a brighter light and stood scrutinizing the piece.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Harold said as he placed it on a scale and weighed it.
“Fascinating.”

Jonathan waited, knowing there would be more information to follow.

“It appears to be an antique, yet is in pristine condition. The workmanship is astonishingly intricate. It also looks like gold, but is much too light, and the arrow tip itself looks like titanium,” Harold said, “which would make it quite a bit newer than I originally suspected.”

“Not exactly the weapon for your everyday stalker.”

“Heavens no,” Harold said, “unless he is particular in his pursuit of his prey.”

“What do you mean?”

“A weapon like this would be highly specialized and expensive,” Harold said.

“Whatever it is, it sliced through me like butter.”

“Really?” Harold turned to him. “May I see the wound?”

“You may,” Jonathan said, “but it’s probably already healed.” He lifted his shirt off and sat on the swivel chair the professor had just vacated. “What do you know about drugged darts?”

“Are you saying that the substance that you suspect is on the arrow affected you in some manner?” Harold asked.

“What is this about a drugged dart?” Jacques asked as he finished climbing into the attic that was a temporary laboratory for the professor and stepped into the area, walking around some low beams.

“Hey, Pops,” Jonathan greeted him.

“I will swab it and run an analysis on that as well,” Harold said as Jacques came closer.

“You never said that you’d been hit,” Jacques said with concern as he inspected the pink bandage. “Nice.”

“You like it?”

“It’s a good color for you,
oui?
”

Jonathan pulled it off, turning his shoulder toward the bright light that the arrow was under. The cut was almost gone, the only sign it had even been there was a light line, and the flesh looked slightly pink around it.

“What makes you suspect that it has been drugged?” Harold asked as he peered at it.

“I felt dizzy for a minute afterward and have been–” he paused, thinking of his strange reaction to the librarian he’d rescued.

“Have been–” Jacques prompted.

“I felt a little light headed,” Jonathan said, leaving it at that. “Do you think we can trace it back to its maker?” he asked.

“We should be able to do precisely that.” Harold turned back to the arrow. “I should be able to have you some answers in a few hours.”

“Great,” Jonathan said as Jacques leaned across him to study the arrow.

“Have you ever seen anything like it?” Jonathan asked him.

“No,” Jacques said. “But I have learned not to underestimate the power of such things.” He looked over at Jonathan who had scooted the chair further away so that he could have a closer look. “I heard over the radio. They search for a man wearing a diaper, No?”

“Are you saying you believe in Cupid?” Jonathan scoffed.

Jacques leaned back on the counter with a grin. “I did not mention a Cupid.”

Jonathan put his shirt back on while Jacques chuckled.

“Honey, Dad, Jonathan,” Jessie called up through the opening. “Are you ready for dinner?”

“Be right there, dear,” both Jacques and Harold said.

“Hey,” Jonathan said to Jacques when they headed below. “I need you to come with me on a kitty search and rescue mission.”

“A kitty is in need of rescue?” Jacques asked.

“Yep.”
Jonathan grinned. “Amber has a cat at the motel she wants me to retrieve.”

“But of course I’ll help,” Jacques said. “I cannot leave one of my own in despair.”

~*~

They pulled into the parking lot of the motel.

“Which one is it?”

“I’m not sure.” Jacques held up the plastic keycard. Other than the name Golden Key, it was unmarked. “Why did you not ask her?”

“I was afraid she’d ask me to take her back here for the umpteenth time,” Jonathan said as they drove into the parking lot.

“How did you get the key then—never mind I don’t want to know,” Jacques said. “Ah-there, number nine.” Jacques pointed.

“How can you tell?”

“Wild guess,” Jacques said as the lights of the car lit the window with the white kitty on the ledge inside.

“Ah.” Jonathan nodded. “I’m going to drive around back to see if there is anything suspicious before I park.”

“Wise choice.”
Jacques nodded. “Do you wish me to vanish?”

“That shouldn’t be necessary,” Jonathan said as he drove around the building and stopped in front of the room again.

“That’s a pretty kitty,
oui?
” Jacques asked.

“I’m guessing a Persian,” Jonathan said.

“She looks Persian-Siamese.” Jacques nodded. “A dangerous combination if you ask me.”

“Why is that?”

“It’s like combining cranky and annoyed, and those are the good qualities.”

“Hmm?”
Jonathan asked seriously. “That fits. Amber said she is feisty, hates men, and has a habit of scattering everything off the dresser when she’s agitated.”

“It is a good thing I brought the secret weapon.” Jacques smiled secretively.

“Why do I not have a good feeling about that?” Jonathan looked at him doubtfully.

“Do not worry,” Jacques said as he dangled a little play mouse in his hand, then held it to his nose and inhaled it deeply.
“Aahh—catnip.” Jacques sighed.

“Let’s hope she likes it as much as you obviously do.”

“It has never failed.” Jacques lifted his brows. “It is the kitty version of a love potion.” He chuckled at the look he received from Jonathan. “Besides, I speak the universal language of love,
oui?
”

“Let’s just hope she understands it,” Jonathan said, looking back through the window at the kitty. “Let’s be quick about this.”

“I can be very quick,” Jacques said as he got out of the truck. He handed Jonathan the card to swipe through the key pad. When he opened the door, they both stood for a moment, looking in stunned disbelief at the vision that greeted them. The room had been completely shredded. It looked as if the only things that hadn’t been ripped apart were the draperies. Their sights both came to rest on the kitty that now sat on the bed atop the blankets and torn pile of pillows licking her paw.

“She must have been very agitated,
oui?
” Jacques asked.

Jonathan put his finger to his lips and used his foot to open the door the rest of the way. He slowly stepped inside the ransacked room. Slipping a gun from his other pocket, he walked into the bathroom. Returning to the main room, he found the door closed and Jacques engaged in a hissing match with the cat. “All clear,” he said as he replaced his gun.

Jacques reached out to the kitty and received a warm welcome. “What a pretty kitty—ouch!” he said, sucking on his finger that the cat had just laid open with a claw. “This is not a nice pussy cat.”

“Funny, that doesn’t sound like the language of love,” Jonathan said as the cat growled and swiped at Jacques again.

“You are a naughty puss.” Jacques pointed at the cat who flicked her tail.

“We need to dust this place for prints,” Jonathan said.

“Hmm!” Jacques huffed, looking at the fluffy white Prima Donna on the pillows. Why don’t we just stuff the
kitty
into a pillow case, and let the police dust for prints?” He wiped the blood from his finger on his pants as he spoke.

“You would treat a kitty so?”
Jonathan just looked at him in surprise. “What happened with not leaving one of your own in despair?”

“I was speaking of a cat, whereas,
that
,” Jacques looked at her, “is a demon!”

“Well, I for one wouldn’t like to be the one who explains to Amber how her
kitty
came to be stuffed into a pillow case,” Jonathan said as he looked around the room. “Besides, I am starting to think our little librarian is hiding something. And until I know what it is, we’d better gather our own intel on this.”

“Look at this,” Jacques said as he pointed out a droplet of blood on the sheet and then another. He looked at his own finger that was bleeding. “I think that my finger is not the only one she may have laid open tonight.”

Jonathan left and returned with a tool box. He opened it on the floor and withdrew gloves and several baggies. He tore away the part of the sheet with the blood drops and placed it inside the plastic.

Jacques tried a few more times to capture the kitty, even turned into one himself, which only caused more hissing and growling from the other feline. Even his invisibility didn’t work. The cat watched him move about the room, twitching her tail.

“See?” Jacques asked, reappearing at the foot of the bed with the toy mouse in his hand. The kitty swiped at it, growled, and leapt off the bed, going under it. “There is something strange about this kitty.”

“Are you saying this because she is not enamored with your charms?” Jonathan asked as he moved about the room, putting powder on several surfaces.

Jacques leaned under the bed and called, “Here, puss, puss. Here pretty kitty—Ow!” He pulled his hand away, pinching the area between his thumb and forefinger that she’d punctured, watching as Jonathan collected a print from the door handle.

“Maybe you should say something in French.” Jonathan looked over at him.

“And maybe you should let me do that,
oui?
” Jacques prompted.

“Giving up so soon?” Jonathan asked him.

“
Non,
I just think she may prefer blondes,” Jacques said as he dangled the mouse over the side of the bed enticingly . . . his fingers far above the strike zone.

Jonathan grinned as he watched him.
The great Jaguar Warrior, afraid of the little white pussy cat.
He placed all the evidence inside the tool box as he spoke. “I’m done with the prints. We’ll get Miss Smith’s things and her kitty, and then we can get out of here.”