A Wonder Springs Cozy Mystery Omnibus: Books 1, 2 & 3

by B. T. Alive

  I guess I could have lunged and tried again, but I was too caught off-guard, and worried that it might not work at all. Kitty seemed like the type who might press trumped-up charges for assault, especially if she thought you’d killed her cousin.

  I lifted my hands in a peaceful gesture of surrender. “Please, I apologize,” I said. “I can’t imagine what you’re going through, but even in my own way, I’m just very upset by this tragedy. I want to see this killer brought to justice.”

  “So do I,” she said. She grabbed her doorknob, fumbled with the keys, and finally creaked the door open. She darted behind the door, then peeked out with a fierce glare. “And I’m sure the sheriff will be interested to hear that you’re fishing around.”

  She slammed the door in my face.

  Chapter 12

  I decided to take that nap.

  I slunk up to my room, crawled into that comfy bed, and slept like the dead. I mean… poor word choice… whatever. When I woke, the sun was low and the shadows were long, but I still felt groggy and weary to the bone.

  Project “Keep Summer Out of Prison” was already crashing and burning.

  It was the kind of lonely moment when a girl reaches for her trusty cat, the one companion who will never leave her side, no matter what. Even when creeps attacked, or killers struck, Mr. Charm would always, always….

  … never mind, he was all curled up and snoozing in his stupid new perfect cat bed.

  At least one of us was settling in at Wonder Springs.

  Now what was I supposed to do? If Kitty was any guide, the rest of the suspects were going to run screaming when they saw me.

  Then I noticed something on the floor. It was a slip of stationery, and it hadn’t been there when I came in to sleep. Someone must have slid it under the door.

  I picked it up. The paper had a print of little pink flowers, and it smelled of simple roses. Inside, a note in a pretty, girly hand read:

  Hey Summer! Do you want to borrow some clothes? Come to my room, it’s up in the East tower. Just go to the top floor, end of the hall, turn right, and open the little white door with the red begonias. No need to knock, the ladder creaks. Please come, this’ll be super fun!

  —Tina

  Ladder? That sounded intriguing…

  But wait, did I really want to start sharing a wardrobe with Tina? That was something you did with close friends. Or so I’d heard.

  She was totally rushing things, trying way too hard to prove how nicey-nice she was. In reality, she was probably looking forward to how flagrantly none of her clothes would fit me. Who was I kidding? There was no known universe in which I could squeeze into that woman’s pants.

  Then my eye caught my reflection in the full-length mirror. Yikes. No matter how much I resented Tina’s pants, I couldn’t walk around interviewing suspects in the same trashed dress suit they’d seen me wearing with Nyle.

  And even if Wonder Springs had a thrift shop, I wasn’t going to find anything special for forty-seven cents.

  Oh well. Maybe she actually was just being thoughtful. And maybe she had a pair of super stretchy leggings. And a huge (for her) sweater with long, protective sleeves.

  Plus… I just might be able to maneuver the friendly Tina into slipping me a few answers. Chatty types can be fountains of information. She might be on orders from Grandma to stay tight-lipped about my family, but at this point, I would savor even the tiniest crumb of information about pretty much anything… the weird sheriff, or how they’d known about my Touch, or who exactly that handsome dude had been who I remembered singing over my wrist.

  I was getting desperate to know what the heck was up with Wonder Springs.

  Desperate enough to ask Little Miss Nice.

  I checked that Mr. Charm was still sleeping and cozy, and left the door open a crack so he could roam if he woke. And by “roam”, what I meant was, “poke his head out the door and see whether a bowl of cat food had magically appeared.” There’s a reason they call the breed “Ragdoll”.

  I didn’t love leaving my door unlocked, but I slipped on my purse, and then there was nothing left to steal anyway. Destitution has its perks.

  I made my way to the end of the old hallway, but I had to hunt around a few turns before I found the elevator.

  It was ancient.

  You know those elevators in really old movies where there aren’t even walls, just a filigreed grating and a chipper bellhop? This wasn’t quite that old—there were definitely walls, with thick solid wood that trapped the air stale—but as the doors creaked shut and the box groaned and shuddered upwards, I found myself eyeing the faded emergency escape hatch in the ceiling. There was so much noise, clacking and straining and… was that a faint sloshing? Elevators were not supposed to slosh.

  Basically, I felt like I was riding in a coffin. In a hearse that was about to break down. On the highway.

  By the time the thing had crawled to the tippy-top floor, I had promised myself I’d take the stairs next time. And for the rest of my life.

  But when I rushed out of the elevator, I was instantly reassured.

  Like every other area in the Inn, the top floor had its own quirky style. Even each hallway was unique. Here, I found a lush, thick carpet that led down a row of imposing doors, each with an elaborate lintel that writhed with carved leaves like a Corinthian column.

  But at the end, I turned into a bright alley of bare white-painted wood. The high windows on either side were small, but the late afternoon sun still filled the space and lit up the simple lines of Shaker elegance. A short row of tall thin doors were narrow enough to be linen closets, but each had its own little painting of flowers, set in the white like a jewel.

  I felt a sudden urge to try every door, as if each might lead to a separate fairyland. But I squashed that silliness, and opened the door in the corner with the red blooms.

  Inside was a tiny room, not much wider than a phone booth. Against the boards of the back wall, a ladder reached up at least two stories to a round glimpse of light.

  “Tina?” I called. My voice sounded jarring in the stillness, like a sneeze in church.

  At the top, Tina’s head popped into the halo. “Oh, hi!” she said. “Come on up!”

  “Thanks!” I called, then eyed the long ladder and muttered, “No wonder she’s so thin.”

  Despite the grump, that first hoist onto the ladder raised a little, long-forgotten thrill of fun. I wondered if Tina had lived here since childhood; I would have done anything to climb to bed like a pirate when I was twelve.

  The buzz lasted about halfway up. Then I started to notice I was winded, and how old the ladder wood was and how much it creaked. So much for me not being a real adult.

  When I got to the top, the hole opened near a curved wall with a window bench, and beneath the bench, at eye level as I climbed in, was a rack of shoes. I was anxious to respect her space, and since her feet were bare, I perched on the bench and pried off my sneakers.

  Then I looked around and stared.

  The room was round, with wide windows set in every corner of the compass. In the late afternoon sun, the town spread beneath us like an enchanted quilt, and beyond the bridge and the river, the blue-green mountains cascaded like waves in a still sea.

  The room itself was a bright little paradise of nooks and built-in furniture. A curved wardrobe here, a lean curved single mattress there… the sweep was only slightly marred by a discreet stall that seemed to be a later addition. For her sake, I hoped that thing had a toilet. The romance of the tower was great and all, but I knew I wouldn’t want anyone to face a four-story round trip for a midnight pee. Not even Tina.

  All this, I took in with a single glance. But what really caught my attention…

  “You have a parrot?” I said.

  Chapter 13

  Tina laughed. “Meet Keegan. He’s a sweetie.”

  Keegan the parrot was massive. He was housed in a huge cage on its own antique shelf. I’d never seen a parrot in real life
, not even at the zoo. I’d always thought parrots were mainly red, with accents in a tropical rainbow, but this bird was metal gray, with a face of white feathers and accents in black, plus a gray tail with a streak of red. Was he really supposed to be this big?

  “So big!” he chirped. “Why so BIG?”

  I blinked.

  “Keegan!” Tina chided. She turned to me with a glance of apology. “I’m so sorry, that wasn’t me. I don’t know why he’d say you were big; you’re in fantastic… shape…”

  She trailed off, clearly realizing that I hadn’t assumed the parrot was commenting on my size.

  No. I had panicked because a bird was reading my freaking mind.

  It didn’t help that his voice sounded nothing like the classic pirate accessory squawking for a cracker. This was freakishly human, reedy and high-pitched like a soft-spoken male soprano.

  “Tina…?” I managed to say.

  “Don’t mind him,” she said, with an airy wave. “He’ll say any random thing that pops into his head.”

  “Cracker!” Keegan chirped.

  “See?” she said. “Classic parrot!”

  “I was just thinking ‘cracker’,” I said.

  “So was I!” she said. “That explains it.”

  “Explains what?”

  “Let’s get you some clothes,” she gushed, and she skipped past me to her wardrobe. “This will be fantastic! I love your hair, and I have all this stuff that’ll look so much better on you than me. We’re totally the same size!” She flicked me an appraising glance. “I mean, I think you’ll look great in these peasant skirts—”

  “Skirts?” I snapped. I hadn’t worn any big flowy skirts since college. Those things were just a public admission that you’d look enormous in anything snug.

  But this was getting off-track. Forget my look. This parrot was not normal. Tina was straight up lying.

  “Lying!” Keegan chirped.

  “I am not!” Tina snapped, giving the bird an angry glare. “She is absolutely going to look super cute. Look at the golden embroidery on this skirt, they’ll totally match her eyes. I know they’re blue, but they have flecks of gold—”

  “He’s not talking about the outfit!” I cut in. “He’s talking about me!”

  She frowned, confused. “You’re lying?”

  “No, I thought ‘lying’. This bird is reading my mind.”

  “Oh,” she said. “Hmm.”

  “Hmm?” I cried. “I just claimed your pet has superhuman magical powers, and all you’re going to say is hmmmmmm?”

  “It’s not magic,” she said, irritated. “It’s more like magnets.”

  “He can read my mind with magnets?” I said.

  “No, not magnets specifically.” She sighed. “Grandma really didn’t want to get into this yet.”

  “Oh right, everything’s got to stay top secret,” I said. “Maybe you should have thought of that before you got a mind-reading parrot!”

  Tina shrugged. “Why do you think we keep him up here?”

  “Tina, you and your grandmother promised me we were going to have this Big Amazing Talk and All Would Be Made Clear.”

  “I know, I know,” she said. “But Grandma—”

  “I’m not completely stupid, okay?” I said. “I came here in the first place because some creep wilted a plant right in front of me, then gave me some kind of skin cancer which then, poof, you all magically remove.”

  “It wasn’t exactly cancer—”

  “Then I come here, and there’s this guy in a wizard hat who can magically knock me out on command—”

  “It’s not magic,” she insisted. “Magic is its own thing.”

  “Whatever!” I said. My mind was racing now, making new connections even as I ranted. “The point is, there’s something off about all of you. Even you, it’s like… whatever I’m feeling, you anticipate. I feel sick to my stomach, and you’re the one who squirms. Nobody’s that sensitive—”

  “Empath!” Keegan chirped.

  I gaped.

  Tina rolled her eyes at Keegan and heaved a dramatic sigh.

  But her eyes had a certain sparkle… and I had a sudden stab of suspicion that she’d planned this all along. Grandma couldn’t blame her if the parrot said too much.

  Even if what he said was… insane.

  “Hold up,” I said. “Empath? Are you saying you can… feel people’s emotions?”

  Tina brightened into a sunny smile. “Yes! That’s awesome, most people haven’t heard the word.”

  “But you mean, like, actually feel? Not just imagine, or infer? You can feel the secret emotions of total strangers? In your own body?”

  “Sure,” she said. “All the time.”

  Somehow this seemed much stranger, even disturbing, than a parrot who could guess a random thought here and there. Maybe she was lying. For real.

  “Lying! For real! Stranger danger!” Keegan chirped.

  Tina shrugged again. “And the parrot’s a telepath. Welcome to Wonder Springs.”

  Inside me, something flipped. I sensed inside that I was ready to believe.

  By which I mean, my stomach lurched, and my knees trembled.

  “I need to sit down,” Keegan chirped.

  Chapter 14

  I did sit down. I might have been in mild shock.

  True, you might think that I, of all people, should have been most ready to discover that I wasn’t the only one out there with magic. (Or whatever Tina wanted to call a one-of-a-kind superpower that no one else had.)

  But that was just it. Until yesterday, no one else had had anything like me. Not even close.

  Now? Now I was arguably less interesting than a parrot.

  Yes, I knew these thoughts were beneath me. But I also knew that I had to face this. This was my new reality. Other people had powers.

  Okay, Summer. Breathe. I’d have to save the existential crisis for later. My immediate question should be: how could I use all this to catch Nyle’s killer?

  “Are you all right?” Tina said. She studied my face and winced. “Oh, no! You feel like that?”

  “Like what?” I snapped, instantly on guard.

  “Like you’re not… special. Oh, Summer, don’t!” She leapt toward me, reaching out to pat my arm. Then, at the last second, she remembered and stopped short. But she still said, “Please. You’re amazing.”

  Right, I couldn’t help thinking. Just ask my mom.

  “How’d you all know about my… Touch?” I said.

  “Grandma,” Tina said. “I think it’s fascinating! Half the time, I wish I could make people forget what they’re feeling. Maybe more than half.”

  “It’s not like that, exactly,” I said. “But how did Grandma know?”

  “I’d better leave that to her,” Tina said. “She’s going to be peeved as it is.”

  She pranced over to a mini-fridge that I hadn’t noticed, elegantly tucked beneath a shelf. “Can’t I get you anything?” she said. “It’s way past lunch. You never did eat, did you?”

  “I’m fine,” I said, as my treacherous stomach rumbled.

  “I ate, but I’m already hungry again.” She opened a cabinet, slid out a pretty tin, plucked a huge, luscious muffin that was clearly homemade, and took a long, lingering bite.

  I hadn’t tasted a muffin in over three years.

  (Stupid low-carb diet. Why did that have to be what had finally worked?)

  “Empathy is super draining,” she said. “Plus, my metabolism is crazy high.”

  “Shocker,” Keegan chirped.

  Tina snorted.

  “Is there anything we can do about the parrot?” I said.

  “Sometimes if we use the cloth, he’ll fall asleep,” she said. She crossed to his cage and draped it with a large square of flowered velvet. “But if he doesn’t, blocking out the distractions seems to heighten his… skills.”

  “Great,” I said.

  “Please let me feed you,” she said. “It’s all from the kitchen; I’ve got my
personal pantry up here. Fruits, veggies, dairy, soy, nuts, grains, eggs, cold cuts, tofu… seriously, you’re making me starving, it’s like I have two empty stomachs—”

  “Okay, okay!” I said. I wasn’t going to solve any murders with a hunger headache. “But is there anything you can do about your… um…”

  She laughed. “Sorry. I know it must seem super invasive. I’m so used to it, it doesn’t even feel like snooping anymore. It’s more like the weather… and when there’s more than one person, I’m getting this mix, so it’s kind of more anonymous, unless I really focus. Half the time, I’m not even sure where my feelings start and the rest begin.”

  “Really?” I said. “That sounds horrible. I can’t even handle my own feelings.”

  Her smile made a wry twist. “It’s got its pros and cons,” she said. “In theory, there’s this technique called shielding, but so far, I’m not that good. Mom’s always telling me I’ve got to get better, that I could really get hurt if I can’t shield in a crisis. Of course, she’s a pro—”

  “Wait, your mom’s an empath too?”

  Tina’s face clouded. She crouched and opened the fridge. “You’re low-carb, right?” she said, in a breezy, stalling voice. “I’ve got hard-boiled eggs, fresh peppers, oranges… I promise to skip the muffins next time.”

  “That sounds great,” I said. “Please eat whatever you want. I’m totally fine.”

  She sighed. “Summer, listen… it’s all secret.” Still squatting, she fixed me with a pleading look. “All this stuff about powers, it’s got to stay secret. I can’t say why yet, but—”

  I arched an eyebrow. “But it might connect to strange men who wilt plants and burn down apartments?”

  She smiled. “Wouldn’t that be a coincidence?”

  “Eerie,” I said, and was surprised to find myself returning the smile. “Believe me, secrecy suits me fine. Who would I tell, anyway? And… I hope you all are treating my thing the same way.”

  “Absolutely.”

  She brought my food to a little table by the eastern window. We sat together, and I started to eat.