Joe had said the same thing about Jimbo, to start. Now they got along fine. “Andrew isn’t a bad person, just a lousy boyfriend. But I promise that I won’t invite him into my house unless somebody else is there. Okay?”
He hesitated, then nodded. “That works for me. But if he lays one finger on you, I swear, I’ll pop him a good one and he won’t ever see it coming.”
“If I don’t smack him first,” I said, grinning. “Okay, it’s a deal. Now, you get yourself to work, they need you there. I’ve got stuff to do.”
Stuff to do, the understatement of the week. Two murders, a rogue bunch of warrior spirits guarding a mountain, an elusive monster on the prowl, a shop that needed tending, and two children clamoring for my attention. Yep, that was enough to keep me busy for a while.
THE NEXT MORNING, Miranda toyed with her eggs. “Mom, you remember that tonight we’re supposed to go watch the Perseids, don’t you?” I could tell she was hoping that I’d say yes, and for once, my memory hadn’t failed me.
I popped a bite of toast in my mouth, hustling to finish breakfast so we could get down to the shop and clean, since it was once again Saturday morning. I swear, sometimes I just wanted to let the cobwebs take over. Maybe during Halloween I’d give myself a break and invite the dust bunnies to decorate for me.
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world, hon. Rest assured, your brother and I will be there. Now, please hurry so we can get going.” I rinsed my dish and stuck it in the dishwasher. “After we finish cleaning, I want you and Kip to go look for school clothes. We’ll shop next week, but I’d like you to have some idea ahead of time of what you want to buy.” I gulped my espresso, then burped. Shit. Heart-burn. Just what I needed.
“I’m glad it’s almost fall, I’m really getting tired of shorts. All my school clothes are too tight, though,” she said, a wistful tone in her voice.
“I suppose you’re going to want all blacks and grays again?” I winced, sensing that at any minute my miniature Donna Karan was about to resurface.
A smirk flickered across her face. “Uh huh. And white blouses. I can’t button any of the ones I own since…” She blushed and ducked her head.
“Since you got boobs, huh?” I winked at her. She nodded back, suddenly shy. “Honey, growing up, developing a figure, this is all just part of being a woman. You look great. Just right for being in ninth grade, so don’t worry yourself over it.” I sighed. “If you want to wear black and white and gray, I’m not going to stop you. But do you think you could buy a few bright things? Maybe you could choose some pretty blouses? You look so good in jewel tones.”
She carried her dish to the sink. After a pause, she shrugged. “Okay. I do like blue and green. Are you ready to go?”
“Plate in the dishwasher, please.” I shook through my purse, making sure I had everything I needed for the day. Randa rinsed her dish, then piled it in with the rest. “Thank you. Run a load through when you get home, would you? And don’t forget to add detergent this time.”
“Okay.” She blushed again. “And I know—no dishwashing liquid.” Earlier in the summer, Randa had made the same mistake I had when I got my first dishwasher. We ran out of detergent for the machine, and she decided that dishwashing liquid would do the job just as well. It had taken us hours to mop up the suds that had foamed out to cover the floor.
“Good girl. Now, please go call Kip while I grab my shoes.” She ran off to fetch her brother.
I slipped on a pair of canvas-topped slides. Though I was wearing my grunge clothes, I’d packed a broomstick skirt and tank top to change into after we finished cleaning. Snagging my keys, I hurried through the living room. Randa was already out by the car. Kip was stomping down the stairs, one by one. He was still mad at me about Sly. I nodded him out the door.
“Hurry up. We’re going to be late.” I armed the security alarm and locked the door, then ran down the steps. Across the street, Horvald was watering his roses. He waved as we hopped in the car, clicked our seat belts, and headed for the store.
After shaking down all the dust bunnies, I gave the kids the green light to take off. Kip hung around for another half-hour, ogling Lana as she worked. She gave me a wink, then asked him very sweetly if he’d mind helping her arrange the dishes in the tearoom. He jumped at the opportunity. Oh yeah, he had a big-time crush on her, all right. It had lasted all spring and summer, but I was hoping that once school started up, he’d transfer it to some lucky little girl in fourth grade.
After a little while, he got bored and I sent him home to finish his chores. I was about to retreat to my office to put in an order with the Adams & Adams Tea Company when Cathy Sutton rushed in. I glanced frantically at my office door, wondering if I could make it before she saw me, but no such luck. She spotted me and was on my tail like white on rice. For once, her cameraman Royal was nowhere in sight.
“Emerald, I need your help.”
Something was different about her. The plastic mannequin smile had disappeared. This was the first time I’d seen Cathy without her usual bravado and polished demeanor. She was wearing a rumpled pantsuit, and dark circles under her eyes told me that she hadn’t slept.
I held up my hand to forestall her. “I’m not going to give you an interview, so you might as well just turn around and leave.”
She shook her head so vehemently that I thought she was going to break her neck. “I’m not here to interview you. I’m not here about the station at all. Please, I really need to talk to you. I know we don’t get along but… I need a favor. Please listen to me. The police won’t hear me out.”
My curiosity aroused, I motioned her into the tearoom; having no intention of inviting her into my office. When we were seated, I asked, “What do you want?”
She blinked those big, wide eyes twice. They really were a lovely shade of blue. “The police have arrested George for murder, but he’s innocent!”
“I know, I was there—”
Impatiently, she cut me off. “You don’t understand. He’s my cousin. I got him the job at the station and he was working for me.”
“Your cousin?” So nepotism was still alive and thriving. “I still don’t see what that has to do with me.”
“He idolizes you.”
“Not likely, after the jackass-way he acted. I kicked him out.” I leaned back in my chair.
“Emerald… oh God, this sounds so horrible. You’re going to hate me.” She paled, covering her face with her hands.
A knot began to form in the pit of my stomach. What the hell had she done to me now? “Go on, I’m listening.”
“Emerald, I know you don’t like me, and you aren’t going to like what I have to tell you, but please, keep an open mind. Don’t judge me too quickly.” She gave me a beseeching look and, growing impatient, I gestured for her to continue. She cleared her throat.
“Well, it’s like this. George is my cousin and he’s always looked up to me. Then, last December, he heard about you on the news. When he found out I know you, he begged me to introduce him. He seemed so eager to meet you, and I just… well, I was angry because you’re always such a bitch to me. I guess that I planted the idea that you might be a fraud.”
It took a moment for what she said to sink in.
“You what?” Realizing I’d shouted, I lowered my voice and clutched the edge of the tabletop. So that’s why he’d gotten so snarky when I rejected his overtures—not only had I hurt his ego, but it must have seemed a confirmation of Cathy’s suggestion. “You were jealous, so you convinced your cousin that I’m a con artist? What the hell is going on, Cathy? What did I ever do to you?”
She grimaced. “Nothing.”
I locked her gaze, forcing her to look at me. “I ought to kick your ass to hell and back. First you set me up, and then you come asking for help? I can’t believe you, Sutton. I’ve never once lied to my customers, never once hurt you, and yet you try to trash my reputation? You’re pathetic!”
Cathy bur
ied her head in her hands. “I know, I know,” she said. “And I’m so sorry, but Emerald, I need your help. George is innocent. You wouldn’t let him go to jail just because you’re mad at me, would you?”
The old guilt-trip. I could smell it a mile away. “I’ve got news for you, babe. George is already in jail.” But as much as I wanted to smack her upside the head, I agreed with her on one thing. Whatever else he may have done, I didn’t believe that George killed Clyde. I ground my teeth together. “And just what do you think I can do? I’m not a cop, and contrary to what your cousin believes, I don’t have any delusions of grandeur. I’m not Wonder Woman.”
She sniffed, mopping her eyes with a lace handkerchief. Her mascara was streaked, and her fire-engine-red lipstick had migrated outside of her lip liner. Talk about Marilyn Manson in drag. Actually, he probably looked better than she did right now.
Struggling to compose herself, she said, “George and I were out in the valley two days ago. I guess you know about the fight he had with Clyde?”
I nodded. “Word gets around.”
“George asked me to go with him. Regardless of how angry he was at you, somehow you managed to convince him that the monster exists. We went over to the biker enclave to ask a few questions. After a few minutes, George started acting really strange. He said he was having a vision, that he could see a man getting murdered. At first, I thought he was talking nonsense, but he grew more and more agitated. That’s when Clyde hit him.”
No wonder, I thought. The bikers wouldn’t have any patience for a pair of airheads like Cathy and George. “What happened after the fight?”
Cathy shrugged. “We hunted around a bit. I had to get back to the station for the broadcast, but George didn’t want to go, so I left him there. He called me a little later and told me that he’d gone prowling through the woods—that he’d found an old shack and an entrance to a cave. He marked the path with some torn strips off of some canvas that he found in the shack, and said he was going to explore a little bit more. I warned him not to go into the cave alone. That’s the last I heard from him till he called me from jail yesterday. By then, he couldn’t remember anything very clearly.”
He’d actually found one of the caverns? “Go on.”
She dabbed at her eyes again. “The next thing I know, Clyde was dead, and George was arrested for murder. George never takes drugs, Emerald, but they tested him and he was high as a kite.”
“You said he was having visions? Is this common? It can be a sign of drug intoxication.”
“I know it can, but…” With a deep sigh, she said, “He’s always had these abilities, but nobody in the family ever wanted to talk about it. My aunt and uncle are pretty conservative and they never let him bring up the subject around them. He talks to me about it, since nobody else will listen. Or at least, he did, until he heard about you.”
A flare of jealousy rose around her like a mist, then wafted away. I chose to ignore it—she was so painfully lacking in self-awareness. So, apparently George really did have second sight, and that might mean there was something to his visions.
“Emerald, he insists the monster is real. I believe him. That’s got to be the answer—the Klakatat Monster, whatever it is, killed Clyde and somehow George got involved.” Cathy wasn’t playing the ditz today, but I could tell she was grasping at straws. I didn’t like her any better, but at least she was being as honest as someone like her could ever hope to be.
“Is there anything else I should know?”
She thought for a moment, then shrugged. “George can’t remember anything from Thursday night. This morning I talked to Detective Murray. She said that the tests showed so much Rohypnol in his system that he should be thankful he isn’t dead. Apparently, when the drug interacts with alcohol, the effects are a lot worse, and his blood alcohol level was three times the legal limit for drunkenness. She said the only thing that saved him was vomiting—he got enough of it out of his system before it killed him. But I’m telling you, he doesn’t drink more than a beer or two, and he doesn’t do drugs. He sure isn’t stupid enough to mix the two.”
I frowned. Even though I didn’t like the pipsqueak, I knew something was horribly off-kilter. But how could we prove it? “What do you want me to do?”
She took a deep breath, held it for a moment, then slowly exhaled and straightened her shoulders. “I want you to go out there with me to look for the cave. Maybe we can find some sort of evidence to prove he’s innocent. The police say he was in the meadow all night. The coroner set Clyde’s death around eight hours before you found him, so George was somewhere out there during the time that Clyde was murdered. If we don’t find something to prove otherwise, they’ll convict him.”
I stared at her. How nutso could she get? She actually believed I was going to gallivant out to the valley and hike through a cave with her, hunting for evidence? “Maybe you should ask somebody else, Cathy.”
She stared at the table, blushing. “No! It’s got to be you.”
“Why me? Why not someone from your station? What’s so all-fired important about having me there with you?”
Verging on the edge of panic, she stumbled over her words. “I’m scared. There’s a monster running loose out there. I was only having George spy on you because… because I missed having him look up to me. I’ll feel safe with you along. You’ve solved several murders and you seem to be a good-luck magnet.”
Good-luck magnet? Was she out of her mind? I narrowed my eyes. Nope. She was still holding something back. “I’m not buying it, Cathy. If you don’t spill the rest, I won’t help you.”
The floodgates opened then and she burst into tears. “Okay, okay. I need your help because nobody at the station will even listen to me. They all hate me, and they can’t stand George. He may be a pain in the butt sometimes, but he’s my cousin and I love him. Nobody there cares whether he lives or he dies.”
Bingo! “What about your friends? Can’t they help you?”
She blinked through her tears. “Friends? What friends? I don’t have any friends, Emerald.” With a moan, she rested her head on her hands. “You were the only person I could think of to ask.”
Oh jeez, not this. Why should I help her when she’d been such an ass? But George’s face kept popping up in my mind. Misguided and arrogant? Yes. Testosterone-laden little twerp? Yes. Murderer? No.
With a sigh, I caved. “I know I’m going to regret this—”
“Oh thank you! Thank you!” She clapped, but I held up one hand.
“Hold on! I will help you, but on one condition: I’m going to ask Murray and Jimbo to come along. Murray’s in charge of the investigation; she’ll be fair and give George every chance. If neither one can make it, then you can forget it.”
She nodded, contrite. “I won’t cause trouble.”
“It will have to be tomorrow morning. There’s no way I can get away any earlier than that.” I had to clear some of the paperwork off my desk and Miranda’s meteor-shower party was tonight. I wasn’t about to miss that for anybody or anything. George wouldn’t be hauled into court until Monday, so he was safe until then. A night or two in jail wouldn’t hurt the kid and might just teach him a little humility.
She stood up. “Thank you,” she said, barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry to bother you. I’m sorry that I told George you were a fraud. I’m sorry about a lot of things.”
I had the feeling she’d be sorry just as long as it took us to prove George was innocent. The old Cathy Sutton was way too entrenched to hide out under this chagrined façade forever. “Whatever. Meet me here tomorrow morning at seven A.M. We might as well get this show on the road as soon as possible.”
With that, she nodded and took off. As I watched her retreating back, the air seemed to grow thick. Shivering, I pulled out my deck and focused, asking what would happen if I let Cathy go off exploring those caves by herself. I drew a card and turned it over. The dancing skeleton of Death stared back at me, and
I knew—with absolute certainty—that if she waltzed out into those woods alone, Cathy wouldn’t make it back alive. Even though I didn’t like her, I couldn’t live with her death on my conscience.
WHEN I CALLED Murray to find out if she could go along, she wasn’t at home. I tried her office number and she picked up on the second ring. As I spilled out what Cathy had told me, I could hear her pencil tapping against her desk.
“Em, I’d love to go, but things have gone wacko here. There were complications during Coughlan’s surgery. They don’t know if he’s going to pull through. In the interim, Chief Bonner has appointed me as the acting head of detectives. There’s so much work to do that I can’t possibly get away tomorrow morning.” She lowered her voice. “Coughlan’s files are a mess. The man never organized anything, and it’s going to take me days just to sort out what’s on his desk.”
Disappointed, I leaned back against my chair. Well, at least one good thing was coming out of this: Murray was getting the recognition she deserved. “Acting head of detectives? Congratulations!”
“Not all of the guys are happy about it. I’m going to have to watch my back, tell you that.”
“Hey, you’ve put up with a lot. Bonner was right to appoint you to the position.”
“Maybe, but even though Coughlan is scum, he doesn’t deserve this.”
I drummed on the desk with my fingertips. “Well, can’t you at least send somebody out with us to check the cave? Cathy said George marked the path.”
“Em, I can and will do that, but it’s not going to be until Tuesday or Wednesday.” I heard the shuffle of papers. “We’re running short-staffed right now. Two men are out with the flu, and the chief just told me that we’re going to have to make even more budget cuts. I’d have to pay somebody overtime to go out there this weekend and I just can’t justify it unless there’s an emergency. If Cathy wants to go now, I can’t stop her, though I wish she wouldn’t. Why don’t you tell her to go by herself?”
I stared at my desk, soberly thinking about my decision. “Mur, I don’t believe that George killed Clyde. And there’s something else.” I told her about the tarot card. “If Cathy goes alone, she’s going to die. You and I both know that the Death card usually means some life-altering transformation, but this time… it means what it says. I can feel it, deep down in my gut. I know I’m right.”
Murder Under a Mystic Moon Page 18