Phantom Blend (A Paramour Bay Cozy Paranormal Mystery Book 12)

by Kennedy Layne

  I’m not so sure about your priorities, Raven. They seem a bit messed up to me.

  “I was so caught up in hearing Harry talk about his grandfather that I didn’t think to follow up with more questions,” I murmured, walking back around the counter so that I could sit on my stool. I leaned forward on my elbows, attempting to sort things out. “Harry came right out and said that his grandfather wasn’t responsible for Bernard’s murder. The conversation started when I asked if he had a father or grandfather by the name of Harold. He then said Ivan explained how he was waiting and waiting to collect a soul, but Bernard never showed. I just assumed that Ivan made mention of the different possibilities that could occur when a soul didn’t appear for their brief journey through the veil.”

  You know what they say about assumptions, Raven. They make an—

  “Don’t you start with me, Leo,” I warned, pointing a finger his way. He was once again on his back, all four paws up in the air. It was his favorite position to sleep in, but he wasn’t going to have time to take a nap. “We’re running out of time before my dinner with Gertie and Agnus, so we need to be quick about confirming these loose threads that keep dangling.”

  “You’ve got a plan,” Liam assumed, resting an elbow on the counter as he regarded me closely. “What’s it going to be, and how can I help?”

  The good ol’ sheriff can take my spot, Leo suggested as he stretched his munchkin legs a bit higher into the air. Tell him his help is appreciated, because I have better things to do with my time than solve a murder that doesn’t need to be solved. I have my hands full with the squirrelpocalypse and how to mass produce garlic catnip Italiano.

  “I’m going to get Ted to pay Ivan a visit and send my mother to speak with Harry.” I’d thought through what was needed to figure out. “If Ivan knew about Bernard being murdered and cast into a mirror, then he might very well know who committed the first part of that crime.”

  “Have you considered that it was Helena herself?” Liam asked with an insinuation that was hard to miss.

  I’d almost forgotten that he’d found something, too.

  He’d mentioned Paulie, though.

  Not Helena.

  “What did you find out about Paulie Russo?” I asked warily, not having to wonder why Leo wasn’t chiming in anymore. His light snores were drifting throughout the teashop. “And how does that lead you to believe that Helena might be the one responsible for it all?”

  “Well, this is where it gets interesting,” Liam said, reaching into the shirt pocket of his khaki uniform for a small notepad. He flipped a few pages before finally reaching the one he wanted, tapping it with his index finger. “I put a call in to a buddy of mine from the NYPD and asked him to look into one Paulie Russo. Remember how I said they were involved with the OC?”

  “The mafia.” I had yet to connect the dots to Helena. “I don’t understand.”

  “Let’s just say that my friend has a friend of a friend who is close to Paulie Russo’s grandson. According to him, Paulie never got over his first love. Even after the death of his wife, all he talked about in his old age was the one woman who’d captured his heart when he was a young man,” Liam revealed, closing the small notepad before saying the name that I’d already figured out. “Helena Ritchie.”

  “That is so sad,” I murmured, figuring there was more to the story if Liam had suggested that Helena was the one who might be responsible for all of Bernard’s troubles. “Harold apparently had a crush on her, too. Why would you think Helena killed Bernard, though?”

  “It’s only a theory,” Liam warned, knowing full well my propensity to rush headlong into things. He stored the small notepad back into his shirt pocket. “Among the stories that Mr. Russo used to share about his past, he would always stop short of saying why he and Helena had never built a life together—with the exception of stating that she was an enigma. He’d then get quite anxious and change the subject, according to this friend of a friend.”

  I rarely trusted thirdhand reports, but it did make sense that Paulie Russo had somehow observed Helena casting magic at some point. According to the guest book that I’d seen at the inn, he’d arrived the day after Harold and Bernard had checked in.

  Had Mr. Russo witnessed a murder?

  A spell?

  Or both?

  “If Paulie Russo had connections with the mafia, he wouldn’t have blinked at murder,” I said, going over the various events of what could have happened back then. “So, it’s more than likely the reason he got so anxious remembering Helena and the past was because he’d…”

  “He’d witnessed her casting magic,” Liam finished, glancing over at Leo who was still lightly snoring. Well, he wouldn’t be for long. We were definitely attending that dinner, but there was something that we needed to do first. “Liam, you’re the best. Thank you for looking into Mr. Russo for me.”

  “You’re welcome,” Liam said with a nod. He held out his hand, waiting for mine. He then gently kissed my knuckles with a wink of encouragement. “Just remember, theories have a way of changing on a dime, so make sure you carry a dollar or two in charge with you tonight.”

  Liam had conveyed on several occasions that he wished he could be by my side when things became a bit perilous, but the supernatural community didn’t appreciate human intervention.

  “You don’t have to worry,” I assured him in spite of the snoring, having already created a plan for tonight’s dinner. “I promise to be careful. Leo and I have this covered.”

  Liam didn’t seem too convinced, especially when another glance in Leo’s direction found him with his belly shaking with each long drawn-out snore. I’d let him sleep for another ten minutes, granting him a full twenty-minute nap. That should give him enough energy to make it through the night’s events.

  With a safe and wise plan in place, we might just be able to give Bernard the peace of mind regarding Mabel’s lack of involvement that he needed to allow us the ability to send him through the veil and be done with this tale of woe.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Are you absolutely sure about this?” my mother asked, unusual wariness lacing her tone as we walked down the sidewalk toward the Paramour Bay Inn.

  It was seven o’clock in the evening.

  The sun was still shining, but sunset would occur in around an hour and a half. The birds were beginning to settle while the crickets began to converse aloud.

  As a matter of fact, I’d spotted Mr. C flying past us with a red feather clasped firmly in his beak as he was most likely making his way back to his nest. The feather looked to be from a cardinal. The way the chickadee had glided gracefully through the air overhead without a worry in the world had me wishing this evening could go as smooth as his day had obviously gone.

  Well, it won’t. He’s going in the opposite direction, and we should be doing the same. Considering that his brain is the size of a pea, it’s clear he has the IQ of Einstein compared to us. I’d say that we’re on the same level as a piece of driftwood at this point.

  “You’re just grumpy because I woke you up from your nap earlier,” I muttered, answering Leo first. He was hanging back a couple of steps, as if there was still a chance that I would change my mind. After listening to Bernard go on and on about how he needed to know for sure that Mabel was innocent of his murder, I’d broken down and given him my word that I wouldn’t cast his soul out of the mirror until such time. “Mom, I promised Bernard that I would do everything in my power to find out who killed him. I intend to keep it. Now, have you heard from Ted? I asked him to go speak with Ivan about—”

  “Raven!”

  Thank the catnip gods! They just sent us my soulmate as an intervention. She’s our voice of reason, and we must heed her timely warning!

  “You’re not going to believe what I found out,” Heidi exclaimed, her blonde curls bouncing as she finished jogging in our direction. She’d changed out of her work clothes into a comfortable pair of shorts. Her white t-shirt had a glittered
red strawberry smack dab in the middle that just so happened to match her lipstick. “In between clients today, I researched the surnames of Williams, Ritchie, and Russo. Look what I found.”

  I’m not hearing a warning of any kind. This is not how I pictured this moment. I must now warn you that you will be forcing my hand if you take another step closer to that inn, Raven.

  I wasn’t sure what Leo meant by that, but there was nothing that he could say that was going to stop us from solving Bernard’s murder. The man’s soul had been trapped inside a hand mirror for close to a century. Making him stay in there another minute longer was wrong on every level.

  “What is it?” I asked Heidi, studying the intricate emblem that had been printed out on a piece of paper. It was a shield of some sort, with various elements to it that were rather hard to decipher. One thing stood out, though. “It’s an R. The same one that was on the back of the hairbrush that we found on Agnus’ porch.”

  Regina, there is something that you should know.

  My heart might have skipped a beat upon hearing Leo’s declaration. He’d even taken a seat on his haunches so that the tufts of hair on his chest appeared more prominent. He was definitely going to say something that we would both regret.

  “Hold on, Leo,” my mother murmured as she took the piece of paper from my hands. “Raven, the R wasn’t from our family. I mean, I know we pretty much ruled that out, but it’s still good to have proof. Here. Look at the way the leg of the R bends just slightly to the right. It’s easier to tell in this drawing when it’s against…what is that?”

  Who cares what that is when I have something of the utmost importance to share with you, Regina? You’re reminding me of why you were so difficult to deal with as a child.

  “A bullet,” Heidi stated with satisfaction. I was still worried that Leo was about to oust himself as the only key to the Windsor Stone, so attempting to focus on both of them was wearing on my nerves. “A silver bullet, to be exact. I need to drive over to the cottage, but did anyone think to ask if Bernard had been a werewolf after we discovered that Harold Lykos had been a guest at the inn at the exact same time?”

  That’s a good enough reason for us to retreat. Raven. Mistress of the Dark. It is our sworn duty to now skip this fateful dinner and drive back to the cottage. It appears we haven’t crossed our Ts or dotted our Is. Shame on us all.

  “Heidi, this is wonderful research,” my mother said with pride. “Just wonderful!”

  I was so relieved that Leo had moved on from whatever announcement that he’d been going to make in front of my mother that I almost missed the way she’d mimicked Beetle.

  Her repeated praise was warranted, though.

  This insignia belonged to none other than that of a famous werewolf hunter. Had Bernard been a werewolf? If so, wouldn’t he have remembered to tell us something so monumental?

  Leo’s groan of dismay was very audible. It was a wonder that he hadn’t fallen backward when he’d open his mouth to bare his teeth in frustration at the fact that we were all ignoring his plea to go home.

  “You should know that there was a slight problem with figuring out which family the R belonged to, though.” Heidi pointed toward the paper with a scrunch of her nose. “You see, I put in each surname into the search engine individually. I couldn’t find anything that we didn’t already know. Liam found out more about Paulie Russo than I could on the internet, but when I put Ritchie and Russo into a search engine together…well, that’s when this emblem appeared. This is where it gets weird, because the picture was literally just floating around in the various images without any website associated with it. I didn’t even know that was possible.”

  I didn’t know my life would be in shambles, yet here we are. Do you know that I’ve seen two ninja squirrel misfits since we’ve been standing here? That’s right—two. They’re heading back in the direction of the park, and my sworn oath to defeat the squirrelpocalypse has me longing to follow. But nooooo. I’m lollygagging around here with you three dingleberries, somehow getting involved with druids, werewolves, and—

  “You couldn’t find out who the emblem belonged to?” I asked, finally figuring out that Leo had been going to tell my mother about the visiting vampire that Harry had let spill during our previous conversation. Now wouldn’t be the best time for such a reveal, but it was better than the alternative. “I mean, I would have to assume that Russo would have been the werewolf hunter. Right, Mom? I mean, druids usually don’t get mixed up in werewolf business, do they?”

  At the moment, druids are sounding astoundingly smarter than us.

  “No, druids try to remain under the radar. They seek to maintain the balance in nature,” my mother said with a frown. She shifted so that the setting sun wasn’t directly in her eyes. “But why kill Bernard and not Harold?”

  Why do you complicate matters? Sometimes, the answer is just not so obvious. Frustrating, isn’t it?

  “I’ll drive to the cottage,” Heidi offered up, holding out her hand to take the piece of paper with her. She probably had a pretty good idea that she’d just saved Leo from my mother’s wrath, which was clearly reaching the end of its rope. “I’ll show Bernard the insignia, and then I’ll text you with his response.”

  Oh, look. The gang is all here. Relay to Ted—oh, asthma attack! Asthma attack!

  We had all begun to kneel down at the sound of Leo sounding like a chicken being strangled, but he blipped out before anyone could reach him. It was a good thing that he’d been sitting directly in the middle of us, just in case anyone was looking our way.

  As I made sure of that fact, my gaze landed on Ted.

  That wasn’t surprising considering that Leo had mentioned the gang was all here, but I now had a very valid reason for Leo’s panic attack.

  Sort of.

  Ted was currently walking up the street from where the park and cemetery were located, escorting an elderly lady who didn’t look to be a day over eighty. Okay. Ninety, but you get my drift.

  The woman in question had to be none other than Agnus Ritchie.

  Ted was actually escorting the elderly woman to her dinner appointment as if there was nothing amiss or that she didn’t have the power in the tip of her little pinky to obliterate him into a melted pool of grey wax with a simple bolt of lightning.

  “Oh, dear,” my mother whispered before clearing her throat. She straightened her shoulders and patted the back of her swept up hairdo. It was her way to put on a show of courage. Her reaction wasn’t too surprising. She was a natural born fighter, and no one was going to see her cower. “Showtime.”

  The couple was leisurely taking their time, seemingly in deep conversation. We were all definitely on pins and needles, because the awkward sound of Ted’s laughter had us all startling right off the sidewalk.

  “Am I missing something?” Heidi murmured out of the side of her mouth. “I thought you said that Leo described her as a prehistoric crypt keeper. Look at her. She’s beautiful, with her white hair styled better than mine. Are you sure that you got her age right?”

  Heidi wasn’t exaggerating about the druid’s beauty.

  There was something very alluring about the one hundred and two-year-old woman. She was almost giggling like a schoolgirl at something Ted said, patting him on the arm. She wasn’t even using a cane.

  Granted, she was a druid.

  She most certainly had the ability to cast spells to help slow down the aging process, and she clearly had her skin care spells down pat.

  “Be ready,” my mother warned under her breath, not being fooled by the image that Agnus wanted to give off to the world. “You should call for Leo. We might need his advantage of boosting your powers.”

  “Leo is right here,” I responded, never taking my gaze off of Agnus and Ted. They were about fifty feet from us, taking their time as they continued their discussion. Agnus was taller than I’d imagined, but maybe that was because I’d pictured a crypt keeper as being short and bone thin. “He’s stan
ding behind Heidi’s legs.”

  I’m not going to ask how you knew that, but I’d like to go on record that I was just collecting my breath from my most recent asthma attack from alerting you to the fact that a druid was sneaking up on you. You’re all welcome.

  I almost smiled, but I was too worried about the upcoming introduction.

  I’d seen a few of Leo’s hairs floating in the air around Heidi’s sandals. He might not have realized it, but I was really glad that he hadn’t fled back to the teashop or cottage.

  Having him with me gave me the confidence to step forward.

  You can’t go giving me compliments like that when we’re about to implode, Raven.

  “Agnus?” I held out my right hand, where my palm was tingling. Don’t get me wrong. My skin wasn’t warm nor giving me signals that I was in danger, but an uneasy current was definitely screaming to me that there was something wrong with the energy in the air. It was the same sensation that I’d received while at her residence. “I’m Raven Marigold.”

  Sweet angel of mercy, you take after your mother more than I realized. Where is your flight response? Did the Satan’s mini-dragon steal it away or something?

  “I know, dear,” Agnus said warmly as she regarded me carefully. She slowly reached out her hand. I tensed, waiting for something like a shock of static electricity. Nothing happened though, other than the original tingling in the palm of my hand. “I admire your determination.”

  I can’t look. Just tell me when we’re on the other side.

  “I hope you know that we mean you no harm,” I replied softly, getting the sense that Agnus Ritchie had a good soul.

  Besides, Ted liked her.

  And he was a very good judge of character.

  For the love of all catnip…he’s in love with a display mannequin, Raven.

  “Mr. Leo, I presume,” Agnus stated, her piercing blue gaze dropping to the level of Heidi’s calf. Had he been visible, I’m relatively sure that his crooked whiskers would be twitching a million miles per million. “It’s nice to meet another realist. I must say that your outlook on life is rather refreshing. I do apologize for the show that I put on for you at the house, but I do get a tad bit defensive when someone enters my personal grove of oaks. Speaking of which, your efforts against the squirrelpocalypse are to be admired. I’ve heard great reports.”