Pawsitively Dead (A Wonder Cats Mystery Book 2) (4 page)

B
ea was
enthusiastic enough about the show to let herself forget about Min’s well-intentioned fourth ticket. At Aunt Astrid’s insistence, we dressed formally, despite Bea’s laughing objection that it was only the Curtains.

My objection, once I looked through Aunt Astrid’s bedroom window at the moon in the afternoon sky, was more grim. “We should be ready to get to the graveyard and fight zombies tonight, shouldn’t we?”

“No, that’s a gibbous moon,” Aunt Astrid corrected without looking up. “The full moon is tomorrow.”

“Already?” Bea gasped. “Well, it could be that nothing will happen.”

“And that would mean that Samantha Perry died for no reason that we could find,” I grumbled.

Aunt Astrid sighed. “That happens too.”

A car horn sounded from the driveway. I looked down to see a limousine and a familiar figure in a blazer. The three of us tottered out into the driveway on our spindly high heels, wearing glittering shawls.

“What’s this about?” I called to Blake where he leaned against the limousine door.

“Security detail,” he replied gruffly.

The tinted window of the front seat rolled down, revealing Officer Diane Davis in the driver’s seat. Diane blared the car horn again, waved, and said, “We’ll protect you!”

Behind me, Bea exhaled heavily. Maybe she had been hoping to see Jake and Blake, the not-so dynamic duo.

“You look nice,” I told Blake. “You should get sleep more often.”

He cleared his throat and gave me a quick once-over. “You look… not so bad yourself.”

This was the closest thing to a compliment I’ll ever get from Blake. He opened the passenger door and ushered the three of us in.

Mrs. Park was waiting inside, and she and Aunt Astrid greeted one another warmly. Mrs. Park was almost two decades younger than Aunt Astrid, but she looked two decades older, especially that night, because of her nervousness.

“Mr. Park won’t be joining us?” I wondered.

“Oh, no!” Mrs. Park exclaimed. “He thinks that the performing arts is a wasted career track and doesn’t know why Min would invest in this show of all things.”

Aunt Astrid clucked her tongue. “Min could invest in a wasted career track like this theater troupe four times a year for the rest of his life and still have enough for retirement. Isn’t that right?”

“It is,” Mrs. Park agreed. “And Min argued the same way. He should know his father by now, but I know he will be so disappointed when he sees that Mr. Park didn’t change his mind.”

“Well,” I said wryly, “I’ve actually seen Mr. Park at a show staged by the Curtains, so he knows what Min’s getting into.”

“Don’t be mean, Cath!” Bea exclaimed. “This is in honor of Tommy.”

“The Curtains aren’t without talent,” I conceded. “It’s just that they’re so ambitious. Operas and ballets! Even their avant-garde stuff shows no concept of working within their limitations. I’m not even talking about the budget.”

“I never met Thomas,” Mrs. Park said. “Min looks up to him a lot now. It’s funny.”

I didn’t think that was so strange. What I wondered was when Samantha would get anything grand done in her honor and what it would be. Then I wondered why Min would invite Blake. I thought they didn’t get along.

We would soon find out.

B
lake escorted
the four of us into the lobby of the Wonder Falls ballet theater, which had lush carpets and sparkling chandeliers. Most other audience members had opted for full-formal attire.

“You were right after all,” Bea said to Aunt Astrid while craning her neck. “We aren’t overdressed. Oh, look, there’s Naomi up on the dais.”

I peered in the direction Bea was pointing and saw that Min Park was standing with Naomi.

“Well, let’s all go and say hi,” I urged the other five.

Naomi squeaked with excitement when she saw Bea approaching. They gave each other a quick embrace and air kisses, then went to the side to chat. Min embraced his mother, nodded in greeting to Aunt Astrid, gave me a smile—and signaled at Blake to follow him.

“What was that about?” I asked nobody in particular.

“Security matters,” Aunt Astrid guessed. “Maybe some of our less-than-model fellow townspeople haven’t forgiven Tommy for that political article and are prepared to be less than constructive about it.”

“That must be it,” I said, completely convinced that it couldn’t be it. “I’m just going to go make sure…”

I followed Blake and Min to an empty corridor, where of course I couldn't stay hidden until they made a turn. A set of double doors down the hall led to a function room, but I wouldn’t be able to see or hear anything if I hid there. I ran forward as quietly as I could in heels but kept myself hidden behind the bend in the corridor. Blake was murmuring, and I heard, to my surprise, Old Murray’s voice objecting.

“And here I thought you’d talk sense,” Old Murray said to Blake. “Here’s Topher’s ticket, right here. It’s his ticket, but it was mailed to my address. Now are you going to show us to our seats?”

“But you didn’t reserve or confirm a seat for yourself,” Blake said.

“You saw all I’ve got to do, Blake! Do you really want to see how Topher gets without me? It’d be better to leave both of us out of this show if that were to happen.”

Then Min spoke up. “Topher is Tommy’s only family, that’s all I knew. I didn’t know that he—”

A fourth voice, doleful and trembling with age, yelled, “Alice! I know what you did to my Alice!”

“Wasn’t lucid,” Min finished.

Old Murray told Topher to be quiet.

After a pause, Old Murray spoke again. “So did we come all this way for nothing? Or did you mean what you wrote about being honored to have Thomas’s family watch the show? I’m his family too, you know. Tommy was my grand-nephew. My sister Dolores was a Willis before she became a Thompson.”

“Dolores!” Topher’s voice spoke again. “Don’t leave us like this! She’s left us, Murray.”

“I know,” Old Murray said to him. “I’ve known a long time. It’s been a long time, Topher, think.”

Blake and Min walked back up to the corner.

“We can wait for the theater to fill up and just count Murray’s seat as a complementary walk-in, if there’s room,” Min said to Blake.

“Right,” Blake said, “I’ll notify the ushers.” There was static like a communicator coming to life. “Davis, do you copy?”

Had this all been about seating arrangements? As Blake spoke instructions into his communicator, I risked peeking around the corner and gasped through my nose at what I saw. There was definitely something, a ripple in the air, over Old Murray’s balding head. It was probably an Unfamiliar!

“I don’t know if you can understand me,” Min said to Topher, “but thank you for coming. Thomas was such an inspiration to all of us.”

Topher lunged—lurched, more like, but feebly—toward Min. “You’ve got so much nerve to say that, to show your face here!”

Min’s expression was one of confusion and hurt.

“Sit down, Topher,” Old Murray said calmly—and there it was again, that ripple in the air that hurt my eyes.

When Topher sank to the floor, his wispy gray-and-white hair falling all over his face, I thought the Unfamiliar had succeeded in controlling Topher too. I ducked back around the corner.

Min almost stammered but quickly recovered the poise that he’d learned in his time away from Wonder Falls. “I hope you don’t mind waiting a little longer.”

“Nah,” Old Murray answered. “Although if you can get us any of those little sandwiches that they’re passing around…”

“We’ll do that.”

Min’s voice was too close. I tiptoed—in heels as high as the ones I wore, there was no other choice—down the hall, slipped into the function room, and pressed my ear against the door so that maybe I could catch what they were talking about as they passed.

Min asked, “Was that enough to confirm your suspicions?”

“No,” Blake replied. “I can’t deny my suspicions either, but I want to.”

“Maybe we should have brought Cath in this time.”

“We didn’t have to,” Blake said. “She brought herself.”

“She what?” Min exclaimed.

The door I wasn’t leaning on opened, and Min and Blake peered into the function room.

“How did you know I was listening?” I asked Blake.

“I’m a detective,” he replied coldly. “I notice things.”

They walked in, and Blake shut the door behind them.

“Old Murray Willis is my prime suspect,” Blake explained. “I don’t know how, because none of the evidence adds up to anything that makes sense, but Old Murray acted suspiciously and lacks an alibi. He had Cody bathe Burger when I told him that the dog was evidence. What do you think?”

It was really too bad that I knew that the crime had been committed by an Unfamiliar possessing Old Murray, but I couldn’t tell either of them. “You can’t arrest Old Murray on a hunch.”

Blake shrugged. “We can interrogate him. With lack of evidence, a confession will do.”

“With the way you interrogate,” Min said to Blake, “I think that’s too harsh. I would know, since you ripped me to pieces in that interrogation room.”

“He did?” I asked Min. “When?”

“Doesn’t matter now,” Min muttered.

“You’re still alive,” Blake said. “Samantha Perry was brutalized and left for dead. No justice and no peace. For anybody.”

“I’m a grown man, and I can take your interrogation methods,” Min said. “Murray is the sole guardian of a minor—Cody. He’s Topher’s only friend. Topher lost his mind and is practically a hundred years old. This won’t end well. Cath, am I wrong?”

“Unfortunately, no,” I told him.

Blake’s expression was usually a glower, so I didn’t know how to describe the look he shot Min. He did say, sharply, “Cath and I spend at least one afternoon a week with Old Murray at the animal shelter. We know what good he’s done. But if he’s guilty of a murder in this town, we can’t stand for it.”

“I’m not telling either of you, or anybody, to stand for it,” Min said, opening the door to the hall. “I just can’t be around when you take any of your terrible options.”

I sighed when the door swung shut behind Min. “Why did Topher Thompson accuse Min of doing something to Alice? Who’s Alice?”

“Who knows? Topher knows, obviously, but good luck getting him to explain.”

“Couldn’t he get taken into custody too? I don’t mean like an interrogation; he needs a doctor.” I added to myself that Topher also needed some expert witches to look him over and check to see that he didn’t catch Unfamiliar spirits from his only friend.

“We’ll do what we can.” Blake was out the door before I could ask who he meant by “we.”

I
thought
that I would be a few minutes late for the show, but Naomi was still talking on the stage.

Bea whispered as I passed her, “You missed Min’s eulogy for Tommy. Naomi had a shorter one because she started crying. She’s introducing us about the show now.”

Naomi continued, “This ballet was inspired by a German essayist, Heine, who traced the origins of the Wilis to Slavic and Austrian culture. The fantasy that they fulfill is common to humanity, whether that would be grief over the lost potential of a young life ended too soon or vengeance for deception.”

“What are we watching again?” I whispered.

“
Giselle
is the name of the show,” Aunt Astrid replied, “but personally, I’m watching those two old men up in the balcony seats.”

I turned to look where Aunt Astrid had pointed. Sure enough, there was Old Murray and Topher.

Bea said to me, “One of them was very rude and loud when Min got onstage. I don’t think he’s well.”

I cleared my throat discreetly. “Did either of you see anything… Unfamiliar about them?”

“Very,” Aunt Astrid murmured.

Bea added, “Yes, but I don’t know which one. It might be both.”

“They’ll be taken in at the end of the show, but I think I know which one of those men it’s attached to. If they try anything before then…” I hoped that either Bea or Aunt Astrid would have a plan.

Their silence showed that they didn’t, and Mrs. Park slipped into her seat beside Aunt Astrid just as the house lights dimmed.

I couldn’t get too engrossed with the show, but it wasn’t as bad as I’d thought it would be. None of the performers could dance ballet with the boneless grace of a performance-standard dancer, but the costumes were splendid—so money could sometimes buy entertainment-worthy quality. Nobody was trying to sing, at least.

I could relate to the protective mother of the frail and waiflike main character, and my favorite character was the princess huntress. They reminded me of Aunt Astrid, Bea, and myself. That was, until the title character got into a love triangle with two jerks, one who always lied and the other who told the truth—and it turned out the latter was worse, because that truth gave the main character a heart attack that killed her.

Then the house lights came on for the intermission between the first and second act. Old Murray and Topher didn’t leave their seats during intermission, so neither did the three of us.

“I can’t believe I didn’t notice it at the animal shelter,” I said, about Old Murray’s Unfamiliar. “Burger didn’t notice it either. I wonder if the Unfamiliar just wasn’t around that day.”

“Don’t stop noticing it now,” Aunt Astrid advised.

“Maybe we should,” Bea suggested. “If it knows that we’ve noticed it, then it might try something. There are too many people here.”

“Not right now,” I whispered. “It’s intermission.”

Aunt Astrid shook her head. “They’re too far away. There’s no way to reach them from here with magic.”

“If the abilities of the hosts are limited,” Bea murmured, “the Unfamilars would be limited too.”

I nodded. “Yes. They’re already limited by human motivations and rules for performing spells under the full moon. The Unfamiliar would need to do a lot of work to get their host to do something improvised and magical. At least, I hope that’s the case for these ones.”

That had seemed to be the way it worked for the Unfamiliar that had haunted me and that had cost my parents their lives. The problem with the Unfamiliars was that we really would never know how they operated.

We had a tense evening, full of wary anticipation. It occurred to me that the Unfamiliar could take action even today. The gibbous moon could be mistaken for full. What if the Unfamiliar or its host decided that it was close enough? Something had gone wrong with the first resurrection spell. The collateral damage of approximations didn’t come off as too much of a bother for this Unfamiliar.

“I wish that we could just tell the Maid of the Mist,” I said. “You would think that she’d want to know. Hasn’t she interfered before for less important things?”

“Less important to us,” Bea pointed out. “She might be Familiar, but she must have different priorities that we can’t understand. We might be a mystery to her too.”

“We can agree that Unfamiliars like this are bad though, right?”

“That’s right,” Aunt Astrid said firmly. “What to do about it is up to witches.”

“Not right now, it isn’t,” I said ruefully, as the audience members returned and the house lights dimmed for the second act.

Mrs. Park returned with small dumplings on toothpicks for the three of us, which I was sure wasn’t allowed, but she was the producer’s mother. All the tension was making me hungry. I ate too fast and hiccupped most of the way through the second act.

The main character came back from the grave to face down the queen of the ghosts of women scorned, and in doing so, she rescued the people who had killed her—or one of them. The choreographer must have taken liberties with the original choreography, because I thought we had come to see a ballet. The final dance turned into a collective tap like Riverdance, followed by more modern street dancing.

“What am I even watching right now?” I mumbled, flabbergasted.

“Watch your manners around Tommy’s family,” Aunt Astrid said, only because Mrs. Park was sitting with us. She meant that I should keep watching Old Murray and Topher.

It was a good thing she pointed it out, because I saw Topher stand up and disappear through the curtain behind his balcony seat. Old Murray followed him.

“I’ve got to be rude and walk out on this,” I said to Bea. “And I might need to run after someone. I won’t take my shoes with me.”

“I’ll find a way to explain it to Min and Naomi,” Bea said.

I shrugged and smiled at Mrs. Park’s gaze of disapproval. She always thought that I was too harsh and judgmental. For now, that would be my cover story.