“Raven, dear, what on earth are you doing here?” Elsie exclaimed in confusion, reaching for the handle on the screened door. She’d had the main door open to allow some of the night air to flow through the house, having told me time and again how she loved the smell of fresh flowers wafting through the house first thing in the morning and then again at sunset. “Wilma and I heard at the diner that you had dinner plans with Liam tonight. Oh, no. Should I call Wilma over? Did something happen between the two of you?”
“Elsie, you sure are something else,” I replied with kindness, my heart practically bursting at the seams over the fact that Elsie would want to comfort me and have a bit of girl talk should the unthinkable happen with Liam. “We are just fine, but I did want to speak with you about something important. It concerns Arthur Whitley.”
Elsie tsked her tongue on the roof of her dentures as she shuffled back a step, inviting me inside her home. There was the slightest scent of lavender mixed with the heavy odor of lemon Pledge emanating from every wooden surface in the entire house.
“What has that old fool gone and done now?”
“I’m not quite sure, and that’s why I wanted to talk with you.” I slowly followed Elsie past the living room and into a small kitchen that had been painted yellow many, many years ago. The bright color had long since faded from its once cheery tone, and I found myself being transported back in time to the 1960s. I was a sucker for nostalgia, too, so my fingers itched to spin the heavily-laden lazy Susan that was positioned in the middle of Elsie’s round kitchen table. “I didn’t even know that you were related to Mr. Whitley until I’d stopped in at the library.”
“And how is my Harry? Isn’t he the nicest young man? Don’t get me wrong. I’d really like it if he cut that long hair of his, but I try to pick my battles. I’m not so old that I don’t remember what it was like to be young and carefree.”
Elsie didn’t sit down at the table, but instead walked over to the stove to heat up some water. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that I couldn’t stay for a cup of tea that I’d sold her, so I had no choice but to resign myself for staying a good twenty to thirty minutes. Hopefully, Leo would be back with an update on Liam before then.
It took a moment for Elsie’s last sentence to register, and it was a good thing that I was already sitting in the chair or else I might have landed with a plop. Elsie mentioned old and young in the same sentence. Was it possible that Mr. Whitley had been right all along in that a relative of the Whitleys had stolen the remains of Caroline Abigail Whitley, along with her jewelry? I was still confused as to how the ring ended up in a fifty-cent basket at the annual garage sale.
“So, what has Arthur done now?” Elsie asked in resignation, claiming the seat across from me while she waited for the kettle to whistle. “The last time I spoke with that man was at his wife’s funeral. No, maybe it was the family reunion we had four years ago. Time just slips by nowadays. Anyway, I always wondered how Rosalyn put up with him for all those years.”
I wasn’t sure where to begin or how much to tell Elsie, because she was bound to tell someone…especially Wilma. The two women were the queens of gossip in this town, and they were also my source for all local news about the residents.
It went without saying that whatever I said here at this table would be fodder for the gossip mill before “The Late Show” came on television.
“I have to say I was pretty surprised when Harry mentioned you were a Whitley,” I began, taking the easy path first. I’d made a decision to walk the more difficult trails after I tested the waters. “I don’t believe you ever mentioned your family before.”
“Harry likes to spin tales and continually lumps me in with the others, but our family tree has a lot of branches. I believe Arthur and I are third cousins.” Elsie focused her wise gaze on me, tilting her head just so as if she could read my thoughts. “Is this about that silly legend regarding Caroline Abigail’s sapphire ring? I might be old, my dear, but I’ve still got my faculties. Wilma and I heard rumblings at bingo this evening that Clifford had been asked over to the cemetery by Liam to investigate a disturbance. My first thought was that Arthur had something to do with whatever was going on. He’s always been a bit obsessive about that ring.”
“Long story short, Leo chased a mouse into the Whitley family crypt,” I said, managing to squash the words together so that Elsie didn’t notice my anxiety over the white lie. “Heidi and I ran in after him, and we thought something looked somewhat off with one of the coffins. I called Liam this morning to check it out, who in turn called Mr. Meyers.”
“And?” Elsie asked, curiosity now written across her weathered features. We both startled when the tea kettle began to whistle. She motioned with her hand that I should continue while she went about fixing us two cups of tea. “There’s obviously more to the story or you wouldn’t be here with me, my dear.”
“Well, there was nothing disturbed.” I stuck to as much of the truth as I could in keeping with Heidi’s best advice, so I went with it. “I did feel bad about the entire situation, so I paid Mr. Whitley a visit at his waterfront property.”
“I see where this is going.” Elsie gave a lighthearted laugh, the kind she usually gave Wilma when they knew something no one else did. “Arthur thinks you tried to steal the oh-so-powerful sapphire ring. He always did have a very unhealthy obsession over that old wives’ tale. As a matter of fact, Wilma and I were in the tea shop the day he called your grandmother to ask her for advice on holistic gemstones. Of course, he was researching the old family myth about Carolyn’s ring.”
“You were there?”
Oh, this was a new one on me. I hadn’t known anyone else was a witness to such a call, and Elsie’s confirmation had me relaxing a tad bit over all the information I’d been able to gather today.
“Rosemary dealt with holistic herbs, so she didn’t know much about gemstones and their properties. It’s not unheard of, of course, but she couldn’t give him the confirmation he sought now that three hundred and eighty years were upon us.” Elsie had poured the hot water into two cups, using the Chamomile tea bags she’d bought at the shop earlier in the week. She set mine beside my cup on the saucer before going to the counter to retrieve the cream and sugar. It took a few moments before she’d rejoined me at the table and began to finish her story. “Your grandmother warned him that if someone thought such an ancient myth was true that there would always be a possibility someone might try to steal the ring from the crypt. Rosemary also warned him that dabbling in such stuff had a way of backfiring on whomever was foolish enough to experiment with such things. Oh, we all had a good laugh over that call.”
Elsie gave another merry chuckle, though she had no idea that my grandmother’s warning had been given in earnest.
“I do miss our Rosemary,” Elsie said fondly, having already fixed her tea to her liking. She took a tiny sip before ever so carefully setting down her cup in the middle of the matching saucer. She then frowned and pointed a not so steady knotted finger my way. “If Arthur tried to accuse you of attempting to steal that sapphire, you tell me right now. I’ll gladly give that man a piece of my mind. He’s just an old codger who doesn’t know what to do in his old age. Why, Stella comes over here around once a week just to get a break from his constant badgering.”
“You know Ms. Stella? I don’t think she appreciated me stopping by earlier this morning.” I took a sip of my tea, yearning for coffee instead. “I didn’t even catch her last name.”
“Jenkins. Stella Jenkins. She is Nora’s older sister.”
I had to wrack my brain to figure out where I’d heard the name Nora, but I finally recalled that she was the nice teller at the local bank. Beetle had taken over the deposits, as well as the tea shop’s books. I hadn’t given him complete control of the finances, but he’d redone Nan’s system to better suit our needs come tax time. Everything was always properly marked, categorized, and balanced to the penny.
It made me wonder if Beetle
might be of help in this case, given that he’d basically done the majority of the residents’ tax returns. His brain was always a wealth of useful facts, plus priceless details that not everyone might be privy to.
“Stella comes across as a bit crotchety for an old lady, but don’t let that frown of hers fool you.” Elsie rested her elbows on the kitchen table and regarded me with affection. It was a nice change from the accusing glare of her third cousin. “If you’re worried about Arthur, don’t be. Everyone from back in Caroline Abigail’s day is long gone, bless their souls. No one outside the family probably even remembers that old wives’ tale, and I highly doubt anyone would risk getting caught robbing a grave to see if it worked when he or she would need that book that Arthur hides in plain sight.”
Had the sapphire ring not been in my pocket and the remains of Caroline Abigail Whitley not been missing, I would have said this was nothing more than a cute family story passed down from generation to generation.
But I knew better.
Not that it made me feel any better about sitting here fudging the truth with Elsie sitting right across from me.
It helped to know that Elsie thought I was here because of Arthur Whitley and his accusation. This way, she wouldn’t be overly concerned and begin asking questions that would have Arthur disliking me any more than he already did.
This visit hadn’t been a total waste, after all. I didn’t believe that Elsie had anything to do with the mystery at hand, and she’d given me insight on Stella. Mr. Whitley’s housekeeper couldn’t be all that bad if she stopped in to talk with Elsie once a week, because this cheeky older lady wasn’t anyone’s fool. Her view of Arthur proved that, but what about her opinion on Clifford Meyers?
Heidi, Leo, and I all agreed that Mr. Meyers had acted nervous at the graveyard this morning. He checked off a lot of the boxes when it came to suspicion—he had to be well-acquainted with the family legend, he’d taken it upon himself to be responsible for the family crypt, and he worked as a mortician.
I mean, think about it.
Clifford Meyers witnessed death on a regular basis. His job couldn’t be pleasant, and I’m sure it had made him ponder his own sense of mortality more than once.
Why wouldn’t Mr. Meyers try to discover if the old wives’ tale held any truth?
“I feel better having come and talked to you, Elsie,” I replied with a smile, enjoying the tea. It wasn’t that I disliked the herbal beverage, but the rich flavor of coffee was more to my tastes. “I hope Mr. Meyers wasn’t too upset about having to stop by the cemetery this morning. If you speak with him, please tell him I’m sorry for all the confusion.”
“Clifford’s mother and mine didn’t exactly get along, so I only see Clifford occasionally around town,” Elsie offered with a sad shake of her head. “It’s a shame, really. Families fall apart over the most foolish things, mostly for perceived indifference. I’m sure you understand, given that your mother and grandmother didn’t speak for so many years.”
I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, not wanting this conversation to touch on my family. We had too many secrets that couldn’t be let out into the real world. Come to think of it, I’m sure that was exactly how Mr. Whitley felt about his family skeletons.
Speaking of skeletons, we have a problem. A major problem.
Leo had finally returned from checking in on Liam, but his breathless statement almost had me spilling what was left of my tea. Elsie gave me a puzzled glance, but I’m sure she thought the slight slip of the cup was due to the mention of Mom and Nan’s relationship.
I completely understand. Just thinking about your mother can cause anyone to get the jitters. She’s not the most pleasant one out of the family line, you know. Can you move this along? We have issues, and I’m referring to talking raccoon problems, if you get my drift.
“I do understand the difficulties of family dynamics,” I emphasized to Elsie, not wanting her to think that I’d lost my marbles. For a moment, I’d thought Leo had been referring to Liam being in trouble, but it seemed that Leo had another encounter with the cute masked bandit. “It’s not always easy, is it? I appreciate you talking with me, Elsie. I’d best be going to join Liam for our dinner tonight.”
Cute masked bandit? Are we talking about the same garbage eater, Raven? Oh, I get it. Elsie put an added ingredient in that cup of tea of yours, didn’t she? I always knew good ol’ Elsie was overdoing her opiates prescription. There are times that she seems far too serene.
“You tell that handsome man of yours that I said hello.” Elsie waved my hand away when I offered to help her stand, showing me that she was still able to do for herself. “And let me know if that Arthur gives you any more trouble. I wouldn’t mind hitting him over the head with that book of his. It might knock some sense into him.”
“How did Mr. Whitley obtain that book? He mentioned that his wife found it in the family library, but I’d love to know where it was originally discovered and if there are more out there. You know how I love to dabble in holistic remedies,” I said, hoping to figure out another piece of the puzzle. Besides, it had been Elsie who’d brought up the subject. “The ritual concerning the sapphire ring was very detailed, and the book almost seemed to be one of a kind.”
Really? I tell you that we have a skeleton problem, and your first instinct is to rehash where the old geezer got the gemstone hocus-pocus book?
I couldn’t very well address Leo as Elsie escorted me to the front door, but I was now really confused and worried that I’d misunderstood Leo’s original statement. I’d thought he’d had another run-in with that silly raccoon.
I did, but that’s beside the point. You’re not keeping up with me, Raven, and that’s a problem. We might need to get you some coffee, stat.
“I’m surprised Arthur let you touch that precious book of his,” Elsie said with a chuckle, pushing open the screened door. Dusk had fallen, and there were now precious lightning bugs flying around instead of bumblebees. “I’m not sure where all those books in the family library came from. It’s such a shame that no one treasures the older books and knickknacks, isn’t it? Well, you have a nice dinner with your beau, and I’ll see you Monday after my hair appointment.”
After thanking Elsie once more for taking time out of her evening to speak with me, I quickly made my way to the car. I’d parked on the street, so it didn’t take me long to settle behind the steering wheel.
“Leo, show yourself right this minute and explain yourself.”
Leo immediately materialized in the passenger seat, leaving a few strands of fur to float around him as his bulging left eye narrowed in my direction.
You only have yourself to blame, missy. I explained we had skeletal problems, and you somehow gleaned from my direct exclamation that I was talking about the garbage eater. Your knack for taking the obvious and spinning it into something unrecognizable is astonishing.
“Leo,” I warned, somehow managing to say his name between my clenched teeth. My concern for Liam had tripled, and the palm of my hand had begun to tingle in that uncomfortable piercing manner. “What skeletal problems are you referring to? And please be very specific.”
Well, let’s see. Liam ran into Rye. At the graveyard. Inside the crypt.
Oh, this wasn’t good. It was hard to swallow around the constriction that had suddenly formed in my throat, which just so happened to be the source of all my lies that had gotten me into this mess.
Liam didn’t know my familial connection with Rye, not that we were actually related by blood. As a matter of fact, I’d left Rye out of the equation altogether. How could I get Rye out of this mess without bringing in my Aunt Rowena and the entire coven by association?
Raven, Raven, Raven. Do you think that’s everything? I haven’t even gotten to the good stuff yet.
“I don’t know if I can take anymore, Leo,” I muttered, starting the engine and practically lurching my car into drive.
I did a U-turn right in the middle of the street, hoping to
reach the graveyard before Liam carted Rye off to jail in cuffs. This was the problem when lie upon lie was spun together to weave a story. Eventually a person—me—became smothered by them. Ivan would probably be standing at the wrought iron gate to greet me for my misconduct.
Stop being so melodramatic.
Leo was finally indicating that the situation wasn’t as bad as he let on, and the tightening in my chest eased a bit as I finally drew in some much-needed oxygen.
“Okay, I’ll stop letting my imagination run wild.” I stretched my fingers on the steering wheel as I brought the car to a stop at the intersection. I didn’t even take time to admire the cobblestone as I usually did, but immediately made a left onto River Bay when the coast was clear. “What’s the good stuff? Rye talked himself out of the situation, and now I don’t need to worry? Although, please tell me that Rye didn’t use some kind of magic on Liam.”
The resident warlock didn’t talk himself out of anything. As a matter of fact, he was actually caught red-handed by the good ol’ sheriff.
“What?”
Oh, yeah. It sure was something to see. The one and only Rye Dolgiram was actually trying to put back the skeletal remains of Caroline Abigail Whitley. You should have seen the look on the good ol’ sheriff’s face when he realized what was going on.
“I thought you said I’d let my imagination run wild, Leo!” This couldn’t be happening. How was I going to get us out of this situation without coming clean with Liam? The worst part was that I’d been duped by Rye, because it sure sounded as if he were the one responsible for this entire mess. “This is absolutely worse than the scenario that I’d conjured up in my mind.”
I’ll admit, none of this sounds any good, but you suddenly flying off into a full-fledged panic wasn’t going to help an already dire situation. Is now a good time to mention that Ted showed up just before good ol’ Barney Fife drew his pistolero?
Chapter Thirteen
Cryptic Blend Page 12