Probable Paws (Mystic Notch Cozy Mystery Series Book 5) (15 page)

A noise came from the area near the door, and they all turned to see two cats silhouetted in the light. One of them Pandora recognized as Alley, the three-legged cat. He was not part of Elspeth’s barn clan but one of the many who helped them from time to time. Alley was one of the lucky ones—his human had actually driven for five hours to rescue him. Some cats and humans are just meant to be together.

“I’ve brought someone who may help,” Alley said. Beside him, a large cat crouched on his haunches.

“Come forward,” Inkspot demanded.

Alley stepped inside. Without the light at his back, Pandora could see the splash of white on his chest. The cat that was with him became more visible too. His deep golden eyes stared at them unblinkingly from a coat of jet-black fur. Something in his countenance was familiar, and Pandora stepped forward to sniff him.

“What is this information?” Snowball asked.

“This is Obsidian,” Alley said. “Tell them what you told me.”

Obsidian puffed up his chest, obviously unintimidated by the magical cats who were all now staring at him. “I am from a long line of felines who have been tasked with guarding Mystic Notch history…among other things. I dwell in and around the historical society building. Nothing escapes me. Today, there was a disturbance in the air. As you know, the humans form emotional attachments to material things. Today many of these things were donated, and I felt the pull of emotions, but along with that, I sensed an object of vital importance. Magical importance.”

Kelley slid her green eyes at him. “What were these things?”

“Old family portraits.”

The cats gasped. But Inkspot was old and wise, and Obsidian was unknown to the cats…or at least to most of them. Inkspot knew not to take anything at face value without verifying the source.

“How do we know what you say is true and not some sort of a trap?” Inkspot asked.

“That’s right. You could be in cahoots with Fluff. This could be a way to lure us into Fluff’s clutches,” Sasha said.

Obsidian shrugged and started toward the door. “Suit yourselves.”

“Wait!” Pandora spoke up. “I can vouch for Obsidian. I know of Obsidian’s line. I’ve spoken to the ghost of his ancestor.”

Obsidian stopped and turned to look at Pandora, his golden eyes softening. “You have?”

“Yes. The Obsidian whose human was Hester Warren. I had reason to communicate with him some months ago. Nice fellow,” Pandora said.

“He is well?” The tone of Obsidian’s question made clear his loyalty to and care for his ancestors.

“Yes,” Pandora answered.

Inkspot studied Pandora carefully. “The ghost cat you communicated with earlier is one of his kin?”

“Yes. I sniffed him, and he is blood lineage.”

Inkspot glanced at Obsidian. “And we can trust his information?”

“I believe so. Besides, what else are we to do? If we bring enough cats and it is a trap from Fluff, we will overpower him.”

“We have little choice. But there is power in numbers.” Inkspot turned to Alley. “Will you gather as many of the Mystic Notch cats as will help and bring them to the historical society?”

“Of course.” Though Alley only had three legs, Pandora knew he could still run like the wind and would quickly be able to gather cats from all over Mystic Notch.

“I will stay with you and help as well,” Obsidian said. “I know many entrances and escape routes of the building. That knowledge may come in handy.”

“Very well.” Obsidian looked around the room at the cats who had migrated out from every corner and behind every bale of hay to stand and were now swishing their tails, showing their eagerness to get started. “Let’s all be on high alert. This mission is critical … it could be a matter of life and death for Mystic Notch!”

I
bid
Elspeth a hasty farewell and rushed outside, calling for Pandora. She was nowhere to be found, and I didn’t have time to wait for her. Once the historical society people started looking at that painting, they might discover the spell book, and then what would happen to it? Besides, I knew my cat could take care of herself.

I rushed down the path up to my Jeep and drove toward town, my brain busy working on coming up with an excuse to be able to inspect the Hamilton paintings.

I’d graduated with Deb Hawkins down at the historical society, but would she let me look at the Hamilton paintings? I doubted it. I was certain she wouldn’t let me rip one apart to see if a book was hidden behind the canvas, but how was I going to get my hands on the painting to even see if the book was in there?

As I turned into the parking lot, I realized I had a worse problem than that. It was seven at night. The historical society was closed.

My hands clenched the steering wheel as I contemplated my next move. I couldn’t very well break in, could I? Could I call Striker and get him to use his police power to gain entrance? But what would I tell him? It would have to be some sort of emergency…

Movement on the side of the building caught my eye. My heartbeat kicked up a notch. Someone else was here. Were they looking for the spell book?

I hopped out of the Jeep and turned to close the door quietly. I didn’t know if whoever was on the other side of the building was friend or foe, and if they were foe, I didn’t want to alert them to my presence.

As I turned back, Marion came careening around the building, wheelchair squeaking in the night.

“Hurry! You must save the book. They’ve got it in the basement, but I can’t get down the stairs in this wheelchair!” Marion knew about the book? Of course she did. She was Adelaide’s twin sister. Had she been trying to protect it all this time? I didn’t have much time to think about it, because she was shoving me toward the back of the building. “Be careful. The future of Mystic Notch hangs in the balance!”

The concrete stairs led down to the basement. A puddle of diffused yellow light illuminated the middle stairs but faded to dark toward the door, which was cracked open to reveal the dimly lit basement.

I crept down and pushed the door open a hair so I could slip in. I cocked my ear, listening for noise as my eyes adjusted to the lack of light. I had no idea what I was getting myself into. Who were the “they” that Marion was talking about? Maybe it wasn’t so smart to rush down here—I was alone, and apparently there was more than one person with the book.

Somehow one of the Hamiltons must have found out the portraits were here. The
wrong
Hamilton. Marion had followed them here knowing that they were looking for the book. But who was it? I ruled out Max, because he would have already taken the book out of the painting instead of bringing it here. I wished I’d asked Marion more questions, but there hadn’t been time.

Dark, hulking shadows of the stored items took shape, and I crept forward, being careful not to knock something over. A murmur of voices drifted out from the north corner. I moved in that direction.

“On hair of toad and light of moon …” a young woman’s voice chanted. Evie? I couldn’t be sure who it was, but I was pretty sure I had zeroed in on
where
it was coming from. I wiggled through a thin opening in between two piles of boxes and ducked under something wrapped in a sheet then peeked out from behind a tall armoire.

Evie sat crouched in the corner. A black leather book about the size of a diary lay open in her lap. The gilding on the sides of the pages glinted in the dim light cast by the two bare bulbs that hung from the ceiling. Beside her, a painting was strewn against the wall. The canvas in one corner had been ripped, but the subject matter was evident—Daisy Hamilton in a blue silk gown.

My blood froze. Evie had the spell book and was using it to cast a spell.

Her eyes flicked up away from the book, and I shrank back. But her look wasn’t aimed in my direction. It was aimed at something over to the right. Her accomplice—the other person Marion had mentioned.

How was I going to get the book away from two people?

But wait. Something wasn’t right. If I wasn’t mistaken, I could see the sheen of fear in her eyes. In fact, the way Evie was crouched down on the floor clutching the book, it almost looked as if she were cowering from something.

I shifted my position to try to see what that something was. The movement caught her eye. She saw me, her eyes widening in fear.

What the heck was going on?

“Give me the book, or I’ll kill you.” This voice was from a young male. Now it was clear. The two people weren’t accomplices—they were enemies. Evie was obviously trying to protect the book from this person, but which one of them was the bad guy, and which one was the good guy?

“I’ll never give this up! I’ll turn you into a frog, and then you’ll see who is stronger!” Evie focused back on the book, rocking back and forth as she chanted the spell.

The man snorted. “You wouldn’t know how to cast a spell if you fell over one. You’re too inexperienced. Now hand over the book so Mystic Notch can realize its full power.”

It didn’t really matter who was the good guy and who was the bad guy. I had to do something to get the book away from both of them. I looked around for a weapon. My movements caught Evie’s attention again, and she glanced over nervously.

Unfortunately the gesture caught the attention of the other person. “What are you doing? Is someone over there?”

Shoot.

I stepped back, intending to squeeze between a stack of boxes and the wall to hide, but I caught my foot on the edge of a table and stumbled forward, shoving my arms out in front of me to stop from falling on my face. I rammed into a tower of cardboard boxes, which wobbled precariously. The top one fell, the cover flying off as it tumbled down. A river of clear crystal glasses spilled out and shattered all over the floor. Behind the box stood the person Evie had been battling with for the book. Julie’s boyfriend, Brian.

He sneered at me. “It’s the nosy bookseller. Figures.”

He grabbed me by the arm so hard it felt as if it might snap out of the socket and hurled me across the room toward Evie.

I
slid
across the broken glass, smashing headfirst into the wall and landing on the floor beside Evie. She looked at me with wide eyes and clutched the book as if
I
were the one trying to take it.

“You can’t have it!” She scrambled away from me, terrified. Did Evie think that
I
was the bad guy?

“Neither of you can have it,” Brian bellowed. “Hand it over.”

Evie flicked her eyes from me to Brian and then back to me. “You mean you aren’t working together?”

I shook my head.

Evie’s eyes narrowed. “But you were acting so suspicious.”

“I was looking for the book to keep it safe.”

“Too bad you didn’t succeed,” Brian said. “Neither of you did. So hand it over, or I can make things go really bad for both of you.”

Evie shrank back and clutched the book even tighter. Her eyes flicked from Brian to the book. It was open, the yellowed page darkened and flaking on the edges. The faded writing looked like calligraphy type font.

“Distract him while I cast the spell. I think I can render him ineffective,” Evie whispered.

My gaze drifted from Evie to Brian. It seemed obvious by the way he threw me into the wall that
he
was the bad guy. They seemed to be on opposite sides, so did that make Evie the good guy? I didn’t know if I could trust either of them, but I didn’t have much choice. Brian was advancing on us, his hand outstretched for the book. I decided to trust Evie.

Still crouched against the wall, the cold, hard cinderblocks against my back, I thrust my palms up in front of my face. “Wait a minute! You won’t get away with this.”

“Why not? When the two of you disappear, there won’t be anyone to tell on me.”

Brian glanced down at Evie, who was ignoring him as she read from the book, chanting words I couldn’t quite understand.

“Don’t bother with that,” Brian said. “My magic is more powerful.”

“So you were after the spell book all along?” I hoped the question would distract him and buy us some time for me to think of a way out. Brian stood between us and the basement door to the outside, but there had to be another door that led up into the museum. Brian had us backed into a corner, but if I could locate the other door, I might be able to do something to maneuver him out of the way so we could make a break for it.

“Is that why you killed Adelaide? For the book?” My question made Brian pause.

“Killed Adelaide? What are you talking about?”

Evie jerked her head up from the book. “You killed Gram? I knew you were up to something. I knew you never really had an interest in Julie, but if I thought you were a murderer, I would have done something drastic sooner. I just regret I couldn’t make Julie see you for the jerk that you are.”

“I didn’t kill her. But I could have if I wanted to. Just like I can kill you if you don’t do as I say.” Brian reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of something that looked like purple sand. He held his palm open, the tiny grains sparkling like gems. “I don’t care what you think. All I want is the book, and if you know what is good for you, you’ll hand it over right now.” As if to prove his point, he hurled the sand in the direction of the door I’d come in through. It pelted the boxes, sheet-covered furniture, and floor.

There was a loud hissing sound.

The pungent smell of sulfur.

And then the boxes and furniture burst into flames.

So much for using
that
door to escape. Hopefully there was another exit around here somewhere. But where? I looked around frantically, trying to locate the top of a doorframe amidst the chaos of piled boxes, displays, and furniture. The only sources of light were two low-watt bulbs that hung from the ceiling and a thin sliver of moonlight that cut in from somewhere high on the wall to my left. It was too dim for me to see any doorways amongst the shadows.

Brian’s lips curled into a grimace of a smile as he admired the fire, the flames lighting up the harsh angles of his face and reflecting in his eyes, giving him a maniacal look. Then he turned and took a step toward us.

I pushed myself up to a standing position just in case I needed to fight. I preferred to solve things with words and logic, but Brian didn’t seem as if he were in the mood.

Evie was no help. She was still crouched on the floor, reading the book.

“Let us go, and I’ll persuade Striker to go easy on you. Killing two more people will get you a life sentence, but since you only killed one person, you may not have to spend your
whole
life in jail.”

Brian snorted. “Why do you keep saying that? I didn’t kill anyone. My only crime is that I want that book, and as far as I know, nobody goes to jail for that. So hand it over, or I’ll make sure your accident is incredibly painful.”

“Don’t lie. We know you killed Adelaide,” I said.

“What? I didn’t! Why would I? She didn’t even remember where the book was. I thought
you
had it hidden. That’s why I followed you around—even out to that creepy mausoleum. It was bad enough I had to pretend to like Julie so I could scour the house for it. That old bat was useless, but I didn’t kill her.”

I glance at Evie. If Brian didn’t kill Adelaide, then who did? I couldn’t worry about that now, though. The fire was growing stronger, and Brian was growing more desperate. We had to get out of there.

Evie still had her nose buried in the book. Her voice was barely above a whisper. I couldn’t make out the words, which sounded like, “by wart of toad and silver light.”

Silver light! The moonlight! I realized the light that was coming from the wall to my left must be from a window. A way out! I chanced a glance over and saw it out of the corner of my eye. It was narrow, only about two feet wide, and placed up over my head. Hope surged when I noticed the crank on the inside. If we could get over to it and crank it open, we could pile up some boxes and wriggle out…but in order to do that, we’d have to incapacitate Brian.

The flames licked higher over by the doorway. They’d spread to engulf the next pile of boxes. The knot in my stomach tightened as I searched around for some sort of weapon.

“Of webbed feet and wet domain, a toad will be thy name … so mate it be!” Evie flung her hands out toward Brian, and we all stopped for a heartbeat. Nothing happened.

Brian laughed and stepped closer. I sidestepped to the right, feeling the corner of the walls on my back. There was a tall piece of furniture—a highboy—and something else beside it. Something with a long handle. I curled my fist around it and set my feet shoulder-width apart, bending my knees slightly so I would be ready to thrust the handle out in front of me and jab him where it would count the most.

Squeak. Squeak
.

The three of us jerked our attention toward the window. Marion was out there in her wheelchair!

“You won’t get away with it now,” I said to Brian. “There’s a witness out there.”

Brian glanced at the window, and I took my chance. Rushing forward, I jabbed the long handle into his crotch with all my might.

“Oomph!” He doubled over and crashed to the floor.

“Evie, come on!” I rushed to the window and cranked it open. Fresh air spilled in, replacing the burning stench that had filled the room. From my vantage point below ground, all I could see were Marion’s sensible-shoe-clad feet and the bottom of the chair’s wheels. Then she bent down, her wrinkled face filling the window.

“Do you have the book?”

“Yes!” I glanced back nervously at Brian, who was rolling, curled in a fetal position, and moaning. I knew he wouldn’t be incapacitated for long. We had to hurry!

“The book! Save the book! Hand it out first, and then I’ll help you out!” Marion yelled.

Evie was on her feet, the book still open in her hands and still chanting. “On toadly form, so mate it be!” She flung her hands out at Brian again, but nothing happened.

“Forget about it, Evie. We don’t have time! We have to get out now!” I grabbed the book from Evie and stood on my tiptoes to hand it out to Marion.

Her gnarled hand darted in and clamped onto the corner with a vise-like grip.

Something just behind the wheels of her chair caught my eye. Red stilettos.

Felicity Bates?

Why would Felicity be here helping us?

Marion tugged at the book just as I realized I’d made a huge mistake. Felicity wouldn’t help us, and neither would Marion. It was a trap.

Marion tugged harder, and the book slipped out of my hand. She pulled it through the window then bent back down, looking in at us. “Sorry, Evie. I hate to do this to you, but it has to be done. By the way, it’s ‘so
mote
it be’ ... Not ‘
mate
.’ Stupid twit couldn’t even get the spell jargon right,” she muttered just before she slammed the metal storm covering over the outside of the window and locked it shut.