“I must see if this is possible!” Bernard exclaimed, still on the subject of occupying another mirror. “What time shall we meet back here, club members? I do enjoy a good membership. There was this pipe smoking club that I—”
“Three o’clock,” I said, raising my cup in agreement that we should all meet back up this afternoon to see what information could be gathered to help release Bernard from his prison. “Agreed?”
“Agreed!” Bernard repeated with an affirmative nod, disappearing into a ball of mist.
We all stared at the mirror in amazement, waiting to see if Bernard had truly gone in search of another portal. When it appeared that he had and wasn’t going to reappear anytime soon, both Leo and I stared at my mother accusingly until she finally confessed.
I don’t know whether to be horrified at the lengths you’d go to for some peace and quiet or be in awe of your ability to manipulate a poor, helpless, and lonely trapped spirit.
“Fine,” my mother admitted in a huff of annoyance. “I lied, but I couldn’t take another word of his rambling. It was like running my nails down a chalkboard. You can thank me later. Right now, I have an old friend to see. I’ll meet you at the cottage later today. Leo, stay out of trouble for once.”
My mother left before I could say a word, leaving me a little uneasy about this old friend of hers. She’d never been part of the coven, of course, though she had snuck up there during her rebellion years.
For obvious reasons, I was a little wary of going anywhere near the coven right now.
“We might be in pretty big trouble here, Leo,” I murmured, draining half my cup of coffee to give me fuel for the rest of the day.
I was definitely going to need the sustenance. Besides, Leo had snuck away for his sanity booster. I shouldn’t be deprived of mine.
My premium organic catnip is for medicinal purposes, Raven. How many times have we had this conversation? It helps boost my memory, which isn’t so far gone that I don’t recall how dangerous a druid can be under normal circumstances. Now you want to accuse one of what amounts to murder. Oh, I feel a hairball making its way up my throat this very minute.
“Wouldn’t the druid have—” I made a clicking noise with my tongue to indicate death. “I mean, druids aren’t immortal, right?”
Leo blinked a few times, his bulging left eye staring right at me as he thought over my question.
There are times that I don’t give you enough credit, Raven. I’ve been looking at the timeline all wrong. Phew! That’s a weight off my chest.
“I feel bad for Bernard, Leo.” I stared at the mirror, now back to its regular appearance. The white mist of Bernard’s spirit was nowhere to be found, gone on a wild goose chase that my mother had sent him on. “To undo a spell of that magnitude and strength, wouldn’t we need something from the original druid? Especially one that strong. Wouldn’t we need his or her staff?”
Are you some type of mood-sucking vampire or something? I’m getting whiplash over here, right when you had me on board to solve this whole murder mystery. That old biddy at the inn better still have those edibles that she likes to hand out to the guests’ domestic heathens. Why she has a “pets allowed” policy is beyond me.
After placing my now empty coffee cup into the sink, I snagged two of Heidi’s dishtowels from the drawer beside the stove. I strategically placed them over the mirror so that anyone who came inside her residence wouldn’t accidentally stumble upon Bernard once he returned from his failed attempt at locating another portal to peer out over at the inn.
“It’s not as bad as you think, Leo. Worst case scenario, we locate someone from the druid’s lineage,” I reasoned, stepping back to admire my handywork. “They don’t need to know their ancestor might be guilty of murder, or that they could be a druid, for that matter. Wouldn’t we just need to find an object or an heirloom that once belonged to the original druid who cast the spell in order to undo it and free Bernard?”
You’re talking more my language now, Raven. Stealth mode. You know, there might even be a spell in the family grimoire where we can substitute Bernard for Skippy. Good going, Raven. I’m an amazing mentor, aren’t I? Well, don’t dillydally over there. We’ve got a murder mystery to solve!
Chapter Five
Leo and I had decided to park in front of Tea, Leaves, & Eves and then walk to the inn. It was now early afternoon, and far too much of a beautiful, sunny day not to enjoy it. Rye and Gertie should be back from their run into the nearest city to pick out new subway tile for the bathrooms, so it was best to get this little visit over with. I honestly didn’t want to spend the rest of the day in search of a druid or a murder suspect, but having supernatural abilities came with responsibilities that couldn’t be ignored.
Besides, we couldn’t leave Bernard inside a mirror for the rest of eternity.
Speak for yourself. Did you ever think that the man came to town to swindle a woman out of her inheritance? According to Bernard, Mabel Watson knew about her great-grandfather’s crimes. She might not have been willing to give Bernard half the inn, and she decided to go into cahoots with a wandering druid. Did you ever think of that? There are forces at work here that dictate we would be better off not getting involved.
Leo and I had already passed the antique shop, and we were now crossing the cobblestone intersection to reach the other side of the road. I spotted Albert and Eugene sitting in front of Monty’s hardware store playing their afternoon game of chess. They waved as we got closer, but I still had time to address Leo.
“From what I’ve learned since moving here, Gertie used to utilize Nan’s magical blends under the guise of holistic remedies,” I reminded him, recalling how we once thought that Gertie had been a witch herself. She’d even hinted that she’d been aware of the Marigold secret. “Maybe I shouldn’t have pretended to be clueless. I could have straight up denied her claim so that she wasn’t left wondering. I just didn’t want her to think I was protesting a bit too much.”
That old biddy always made it seem like she knew more than the average battle-ax. If anyone was onto our little hush-hush abilities, it would be these two geezers. They monitor everything, and I mean everything. It wouldn’t surprise me if they even knew where Skippy and his ninja misfits’ headquarters are located. That gives me an idea…
“No, it doesn’t,” I muttered, now that we were within hearing distance of Albert and Eugene. “I’m not asking them about the local squirrels, so put a cork in it.”
You won’t be saying that when the squirrelpocalypse descends on top of your head. If Skippy’s forefathers had something to do with all those oak trees being planted near the park, there’s only one way they could have—
“Good afternoon, gentleman,” I greeted, ignoring Leo as he continued to rant about the squirrelpocalypse. “Who is winning this game?”
“Albert is complaining that the sun was in his eyes and that he couldn’t see I was about to take his queen,” Eugene said as he rubbed his jaw in thought. It must have been his turn with the way he was studying the remaining pieces. “It’s still too early to tell, though. I had to sacrifice a rook.”
“I heard that Monty scored big at your table this morning,” Albert said after he gave Eugene a sideways look of annoyance. “He hasn’t stopped talking about it since he got here.”
“Nan had some pots and pans stored in the pantry,” I explained with a smile. It was always nice to make someone’s day. “I’m glad he likes them.”
“What are you doing out and about then?” Albert asked, his curiosity shining through. “You didn’t sell everything already, did you? You still have tomorrow to go.”
“No, but I needed to speak with Gertie about an upcoming tea order,” I replied smoothly, not knowing where my ability to do so came from this morning. Usually, I needed to rely on Heidi to get anything over on someone. Not only was I accident-prone, I was horrible liar. “Heidi is covering my table for me until I get back. She’s authorized a ten percent discount for certain ches
s aficionados.”
“Hey, Leo,” Eugene murmured, reaching down and patting Leo on top of the head as he still regarded the chess board with interest. “I saw that chickadee attack you this morning. You’re lucky you only lost a tuft of hair. Those birds are a nuisance, aren’t they?”
There was a witness to my mortification, Raven. This is unacceptable.
Leo was looking over his shoulder and down the sidewalk to where Mr. C had his rather colorful nest in a lamppost in front of the bakery. I didn’t need Leo to get distracted, so I brought up the Watsons in hopes that maybe the two elderly men might remember something being said about the family throughout their lives.
“Both of your families are from the area, right?” I asked, shooing a bumblebee away as he flew past on his way to one of the flower beds lining the storefronts. Once I was sure that he wasn’t coming back my way, I then followed up with the reason why. “I heard a crazy story this morning about Seymour Watson, who would have been Gertie’s great-great grandfather.”
You realize that you’re speaking to two old geezers, right? What makes you think they’d remember something from when they were bouncing on their fathers’ knees, let alone what they had for breakfast? I mean, I’m not the only one in this town with memory issues.
“What story is that?” Albert asked, all the while keeping a watchful eye on Eugene. The other man was hovering his fingers over his knight. “Gertie’s a good bit older than us, and I’m not even sure that I remember her grandmother, let alone her great-great grandfather. I do remember Mabel, though. She was one tough cookie.”
“How do you mean?” I inquired, figuring it might not be such a bad idea to collect all the information on the Watsons as I could before visiting Gertie.
I peeked once more at the flower bed to check on the bumblebee’s whereabouts. He’d landed in one of the flowers and was too busy pollinating to worry about me.
“When we were young’uns back in the day, we might have been a bit rowdy,” Albert shared with a hearty laugh. “Ms. Mabel had one of those old wooden-handled fly swatters, and she wasn’t afraid to use it if we got a bit too rambunctious around her.”
Did he say that the old biddy used a fly swatter to keep malcontents in line? You know, that’s not a bad idea. We could keep one around the teashop for when your mother and Beetle get frisky and—
“You’re talking about that old tree house near the property line, aren’t you? The one that sits in the large tree between the inn and the park,” Eugene clarified with a chuckle, sitting back in his chair after he’d moved his knight. He had no idea that he’d just interrupted Leo’s new idea to keep my mother and Beetle from too many public displays of affection. I’m had been sure that he wasn’t going to be so diplomatic in his description about the couple, but I figured that was the gist of it. “Those were the good old days. Now all that’s left is a treehouse full of squirrels.”
An old oak treehouse full of squirrels? Now wait just a bushel of acorns…
“I was actually talking about a stolen treasure tale that dated back to Seymour Watson.” I watched both men carefully for any odd reaction. Neither one of them responded in a way that would indicate they were aware of any gold, although Leo was already working on conspiracy theories that involved Skippy’s ancestors and fortified positions high up in the trees. “See? This is why I love events like the annual garage sale. Residents coming together, childhood memories being recollected, and a beautiful day that is enjoyed to the fullest with one another. Well, I’m off to see Gertie. Good luck on your game!”
Oy vey, Raven. Even I could hear that your goodbye was a little bit forced. You really need to work on your game.
I waited until we were a good distance away before responding, having already cringed at my falsetto tone. I’d been doing so good in the fibbing department, too.
“You saw for yourself that they didn’t know anything,” I pointed out after having given the bumblebee and flowers a wide berth. “I want to get back to the garage sale. It’s only once a year, and I’m really enjoying myself. Plus, it’s not like I could ask them if they knew of any druids in the area. I’ve been thinking about our predicament, and—”
Well, there’s our first stumbling block.
“Not nice,” I muttered, slipping my hand inside the pocket of my skirt. I really had a love for broomstick skirts, especially the ones that had pockets. I was able to carry my cell phone with a plastic holder stuck to the back that held my license and credit card. Pulling my phone out, I checked for any messages, either from Liam or my mom. Neither had reached out with news, so it looked like I was still on a fact-finding mission. “What I was going to say was that we technically don’t need to figure out who murdered Bernard to get him to cross over through the veil. We just need to find a way to get his spirit released from the mirror.”
So, what you’re saying is that we need to find a descendent of the druid who confined a soul to an object without getting ourselves killed in the process. Got it. Speaking of problems, the second one just arrived. Remind me again why I got stuck with you on this case?
My gaze landed on the so-called problem that Leo had pointed out after I’d glanced up from my phone.
Sure enough, Rye Dolgiram was walking this way.
He was actually coming from the direction of the inn, which meant that he’d just dropped off Gertie on her doorstep. It was good to know that I’d had my timing right. With any luck, I’d be able to get back to my table for the afternoon crowd.
I’m pretty sure that Lady Luck took a holiday.
Rye did a lot of work for Gertie, keeping up with odds and ends around the old Victorian home that served as a bed and breakfast. It was highly doubtful that he and Gertie had ever talked about an old crime committed by her great-great grandfather, but Rye might actually be able to help us in a different manner.
The only thing this warlock is good for is crafting a decent squirrel trap and cheating at poker.
“Nice to know I’m good for something, Leo,” Rye said wryly, having gotten close enough to us that he’d overheard Leo’s comment. “And we’ve already discussed this. I’m not building you squirrel traps, nor am I cheating during our Wednesday night poker games. Let the squirrels have their fun in the park. Skippy and the gang are not hurting anyone. And as far as the poker games go, you’ve got a boatload of tells. That’s how I beat you at every hand.”
See? He’s a card shark. I haven’t got any tells, and everyone knows that. By the way, that fluffy-tailed rat and his ninja misfits have you fooled. That’s how it starts, warlock. That’s how the squirrelpocalypse starts. All they need to count on is your apathy.
“If you were serious about me building those traps, you’d cut me a deal at the poker table this Wednesday,” Rye suggested to Leo, causing both him and me to wonder what would be offered in return for going along with his scheme. I didn’t want to know, and I certainly didn’t want Rye to get Leo to offer up some absurd favor that might or might not have to do with Aunt Rowena. “Where are you two headed? Aren’t you hosting a table at this year’s garage sale?”
“Yes, but I need to talk to Gertie about her tea order.”
Yeah, this is business-related, warlock. It doesn’t concern you. We wouldn’t have to be walking this far if the old bat carried a cell phone.
“Leo,” I admonished, realizing that he was just trying to help me keep to my story. Even so, he didn’t have to be mean about it. “Gertie is in her nineties. She tried the cell phone thing, remember? When she dropped it in the toilet last time around, she decided to go back to having a landline. Let her live out the remainder of her years without the added anxiety.”
Have you seen the way that woman can move? Faster than Skippy when he spots an acorn, and that’s saying something.
“Rye, I know this might come across as an unusual question,” I began, getting back to the subject at hand. He could be of help, but I had to go about it carefully. I didn’t want him to know about the phantom
trapped in a mirror. The less involved, the better. “Do you happen to know if there are any druids in the area?”
“Druids?”
“Druids.”
We could stand here in the baking sun and repeat each other all day, or you could actually answer so that we can all go about our daily business. In case you haven’t noticed, I have a bald spot on my head now. It’s susceptible to sunburn. My premium organic catnip is the cure for many things, but sunburn isn’t one of them.
“Raven, why on earth would you want to go anywhere near a druid?” Rye asked in disbelief before concern filled his features. He was what a lot of women would call tall, dark, and handsome. Bree Stonehedge, who owned the bakery, was one of those women. The two happened to be dating, but they were doing so on the downlow so that Bree didn’t get caught up in the whole supernatural thing. “Don’t answer that. Does this have to do with—”
“It has nothing to do with the coven war,” I reassured him, having to lift a hand to my forehead when the sun became a bit too bright for my eyes. The good thing about the annual garage sale was that it meant hardly anyone was out and about on River Bay. The main thoroughfare of town was relatively quiet for a Saturday afternoon, allowing us to talk freely about witches, warlocks, and druids. “I mean, we have a grim reaper and a werewolf close by. I was just wondering what else might be lurking about in the shadows of Paramour Bay.”
Both Rye and Leo regarded me with cynicism, but for completely different reasons. Rye clearly didn’t believe my explanation, and Leo was most likely doing what he could to camouflage his horror at my attempt to convince Rye that my wanting to know about druids was out of sheer curiosity.
“You need to steer clear of her, Raven.”
I’d looked down toward Leo before Rye had responded, so I was able to catch Leo’s left eye bulging in shock. It was a good thing that he’d reacted in such a way, because I needed a moment to wrap my head around the fact that there was a druid in the area.
Phantom Blend (A Paramour Bay Cozy Paranormal Mystery Book 12) Page 5