“Hattie Jenkins!” Gideon’s mellifluous voice cut David’s clean off.
“You,” he waggled a friendly finger at me. “You owe me a dinner date.”
David’s jaw set grimly as he drew his arms across his chest.
If he noticed, Gideon didn’t show it. He wrapped a long, sinewy arm around my shoulders and steered me toward the front of the crowded room and away from David.
“I, uh, didn’t know you were on Glessie Isle,” I stammered.
Gideon’s warm laugh eased the butterflies in my stomach. “Well, I did say I had business here.”
He gestured to the room. My eyes widened excitedly. “Oh! Are you here to help fight the Sugar Dunes airstrip proposal?”
“Fight the proposal? My goodness, no! Miss Falk and I are here to support the project. We want to build a Sugar Dunes airstrip to help export Cathedrals black diamonds.”
Men. I was starting to think maybe Millicent had had the right idea.
“You can’t be serious!” I exclaimed, drawing the attention of several nearby townsfolk. “Sugar Dunes is critical habitat for the endangered Least Tern! If a proposal to develop the Dunes area were to be approved, it could have disastrous repercussions on the terns’ entire ecosystem!”
“And we expected such a volatile initial response to the concept,” Gideon countered, unruffled by my vocal outburst. “Which is why we have traveled here, personally, to convince the good people of Glessie that the benefits far outweigh the risks.”
“The benefits!?” I exploded. “Like what the proposed construction will do to the marine ecosystem round the Dunes and Nessie Beach? Like the devastation it will cause to the kelp forest at Sugar Dune Point? Forests which are already at risk of extinction due to already existing climate changes from other areas? And what about the potential impact on commercial and recreational fisheries?”
My heated outburst had accomplished everything Under-Mayor Grimsbane had not…it had gathered the attention of every single person in the room. Including the stern-faced, blue-haired woman Gideon kept calling Miss Falk. Typically, I shied away from such attention, but this was one situation where I was motivated to jump up on the proverbial soapbox – figuratively and literally. I snatched a nearby chair and jumped nimbly on it until I was at least a full foot above the crowd.
“That’s right!” I engendered Galen Killoran and Leif Borges, two of Gless Inlet’s fleet captains. “Because it’s not just the terns who are threatened by the airstrip development. What’s going to happen to your fishing business, Galen, when you lower your nets into the water and draw back nothing but sludge? How will you feed your families? And speaking of sludge, has anyone thought of how the development will impact water flows and the surf and water quality in Nessie Bay? What is the risk to the wastewater plant outflow? Gless Inlet is a coastal tourist town. What happens if polluted outflow washes back on our beaches? What do we tell the summer visitors when our pristine beaches are fouled? ‘Oh, what’s that? Out of sunscreen? That’s okay! Just slap a little of this toxic waste on your skin. I guarantee you’ll forget all about that annoying little sunburn.’ And for what? So the Cathedral government can profit at the expense of Glessie Isle and its inhabitants?”
Animated discussions burbled through the restless crowd. I didn't notice as a dollop of pink sidled up next to me. I glanced down at Millie, my friend and assistant.
“Wow, Hat. I think you missed your calling. You’ve really got the crowd worked up and talking seriously about the subject. You’re my hero,” Millie murmured as she tugged on my skirt.
The Aphrodite with blue-black tresses glided up next to Gideon and whispered something sotto voce into his ear. I swear it was like her lips hardly moved. Whatever she said, Gideon nodded then held his long arms in the air.
“Ladies and gentlemen! Please! Do not misunderstand. While Miss Jenkins concerns are quite respectable, her accusations against my government are entirely unfounded. Our proposal to develop an airstrip on the Sugar Dunes is not motivated by profit. I repeat, our plans are not for profit.”
“Baloney!” Fleet captain, Galen Killoran, gave a hearty Bronx cheer. “That’s what you corporate big wigs always say! A lot of fancy lip service while ya stomp on the little guy!”
A few cheers went up in support of Galen’s assertion. I smiled. Even without Millicent, it seemed as though the tide was turning in favor of nixing the proposed runway scheme. Okay. I’ll fess up. My heart did swell with a modicum of pride. But, Gideon wasn’t ready to throw in the towel just yet.
“A tragic reality of today’s world which I am glad to say Cathedral does not cater to.”
He maneuvered a chair next to mine in a nonthreatening, almost friendly gesture, and stepped up, dwarfing any physical advantage I might have imagined I had. His shadow stretched, long and lean, over nearly the entire crowd. If I’d dwelled on the fact, I might have felt a little more confounded, but Gideon’s wasn’t the only shadow to catch my attention. I could have sworn I saw a distinctly feline shape peel away from the shadows of the podium toward the chairs where we standing. I lost sight of the tomcat outline until I saw just a paw to the right of Gideon's chair. Specifically, a swiping paw. And that paw was now swatting frantically at the floorboards beneath Gideon’s gorgeous companion.
“Shade!”
I tapped Millie’s shoulder and gave a discreet nod toward the tapping shadow. She shook her head in comprehension and started to maneuver towards my crazy cat.
“Excuse me.” Millie wiggled and wormed. “Pardon me.”
The petite blond carrying the particular, draped package suddenly appeared in the crowd and took a position directly in front of the orating governor. She looked more than a little annoyed at Millie for obstructing her view. Millie paid her no heed. She was on a mission.
“In fact,” Gideon continued as Millie squeezed her curvily cushioned frame between Gideon and the pressing crowd.
“Our real motivation for the Sugar Dunes airstrip…”
Millie was nearly to Shade, and whatever had him so intrigued.
“…is…”
Millie leaned down.
“…to save lives.”
“LIAR!!!” The explosive outburst was accompanied by a loud crash as the petite blonde dropped the curious parcel in her arms. The cover fell to the wayside, and the wired door of what appeared to be a birdcage sprung open, releasing three squawking, and very startled terns. Feathers and dander flew in a flurrying cyclone as the birds flapped insanely through the crowd.
The blonde bolted straight at Gideon. “If you cared about lives, my Millicent wouldn’t be DEAD!!!”
Ravena Valley! It had to be!
The diminutive Ravena barreled forward, body-checking Millie into Gideon’s companion.
“Me-YOWL!!!” Shade let out a pained cry as his paw was crushed under a rather pointed heel. Miss Falk flailed for balance, a momentary look of worry muddying her otherwise perfect features. The look was quickly replaced by icy irritation as she noticed the now-visible Shade skulking about her feet. With a cold stare at Millie and the cat, she immediately gathered the trailing hemline of her dress and moved to assist the wind-milling Gideon who was about to topple from his chair-stage.
He wasn’t the only one!
As Ravena threw herself on top of Gideon, one of Gideon’s long arms swept me from my own perch, and I was in a head-on collision with the hardwood floor.
“David!” I cried as I caught sight of my old friend desperately trying to push his way through the madding crowd to reach me.
“Oof!” Gravity won the race. I hit the ground…hard. The wind knocked from my lungs, but it wasn’t from hitting the ground. I’d no sooner hit the floor when Gideon Shields fell on top of me.
The entire length of the devastatingly handsome governor lay atop me. He was so close, our noses nearly touched. I guess his icy-eyed assistant didn't get to him in time.
For one fleeting moment, I almost didn’t notice the pained expression on
David’s face as he suddenly stopped his forward motion.
I almost didn’t see the dark look on Miss Falk’s face as Gideon brushed a lock of hair from my forehead.
I almost didn’t spot Millie’s pert mouth drop open in an astonished little “O.”
Then one of the flapping birds squawked loudly and landed a warm, liquid purple-white splotch of gross on my face. Which definitely ruined my intimate moment with Shields.
Shade sniggered as he limped past the pile-up and past Violet Mulberry, who's face was slack with wonder at the turn of events. “More like ‘poultry in motion,' huh, Violet? ” Shade quipped.
The problem with immortal cats? You couldn’t strip them of one of their nine lives.
Chapter Five
“Bacillus pumilus, Citrobacter amalonaticus and Stenotrophomonas maltophilia,” Maude Dulgrey smiled a toothy grin as she opened the imposing, iron-hinged, solid oak door to her morgue. Maude’s pallor might be a little on the dull and ashy side, but the ghoulish medical examiner always had a smile that beamed at a thousand watts.
“Well,” I snapped, more upset with David for pulling me away from Gideon than at Maude for speaking at me in tongues. “That’s not any herb I’ve ever heard of, so I guess you won’t be needing my services in this case, after all, Chief Trew.” I promptly turned on my heel and started down the sidewalk. David snagged me by the elbow.
“Come on, Hat. It’ll just take a minute. And I really value your opinion.”
“Just not my dinner plans,” I quipped. I rubbed angrily at the garish purple-white goo still stuck on my cheek in Rorschach spots. If Gideon hadn’t made such a strong argument for the airstrip, the offending mark alone might have had me second guessing my stance on tern protection.
Fact was, however, Gideon had made a surprising revelation. Well, that is, he did after the feathered fiasco at Town Hall. That had been an unholy mess.
When the tern’s cage exploded open, Shade’s feline instinct had kicked in, and he immediately shot after the suddenly liberated birds. Immortal kitty or no. The frightened birds squawked into flight, throwing up more clouds of white, downy feathers and dander. It looked like Old Man Winter had blown a Nor’easter through Town Hall. Confused people scurried like crazed ants deserting an ant hill, bumping into one another, falling down.
“This is exactly why animals aren’t allowed in Town Hall!” Under-Mayor Grimsbane cried, his voice squeaking comically above the cacophony.
Once the hubbub died down and Fortescue Grimsbane saw to it that David slapped both Ravena Valley and me with the appropriate citations, Gideon had graciously helped me up and, once he ensured I was sound, delivered a compelling reason for his proposal. A logic that had the whole town looking at the suggested plans in a new light.
He had offered to explain it to me, in depth, over a slice of deep dish – my own little guilty pleasure, truth be known – when David had swooped in and whisked me here before I could say “Mange!”
Maude chuckled a dry rasp. Little plumes of dust wisped from her mouth. “No, no, no. Hattie. It’s not herbs at all. It’s some of the fungi and bacteria in that funk on your face. Although, it’s not without its merits. I hear there are some spas on The Mainland who offer bird poop facials at $180 a pop!”
“What a load of crap!” Carbon exclaimed. The tabby tagalong we had picked up as we passed The Angel Apothecary never missed an opportunity to visit Maude’s. Besides the tempting salmon-flavored treats she always kept on hand, he adored snuggling next to Maude’s industrial-sized boiler.
“Exactly, my furry little friend!” Maude creaked downward to give Carbon a hearty noogie on the head. “Japan ships a pretty pound of it to high-end salons and spas all over the world. Apparently the acids in the stuff act as a natural exfoliant. Whatever next?" Our Medical Examiner raised her thin eyebrows in mock horror. "Come on, Hattie. Let me get you a proper antibacterial wipe. That is, unless, you’re going for that youthful glow to impress a certain, ahem, someone.” The ghoul coroner eyed David with a milky gaze. I found myself taken aback because as soon as Maude ribbed me about this, I realized it was Gideon I had in mind. Not David. It was a strange feeling to have my focus of attention change like this. I felt a little remorseful; I won't lie. I heard Carbon give a giggly snort at Maude's humor, and CPI Trew and I followed he and the coroner into the building. I guess since I was headed inside anyway, I could see what the Chief thought was so important he had to drag me away from a perfectly crisped Margherita pie and an excellent room temperature chianti. And the Governor of Cathedral.
Torches sputtered on the cold walls, their hesitant orange-gold light quivering with dancing shadows on the flagstone floors. The dark corridor narrowed as we went, giving me that eerie feeling as if we had stepped through the maw of some dreadful monster and were now shimmying down his esophagus into the pit of his belly to be politely digested.
It wasn’t a bad analogy. Maude’s state-of-the-art lab was often a place where heaping platefuls of information were digested. Chewed up and spewed out to churn out facts that helped us solve some pretty baffling cases. My empty stomach started to growl in protest.
“That’s it. As soon as we’re done here, I am going to meet Governor Shields at the pizza parlor!” I sounded a little petulant, which caused my cheeks to flush with childlike shame.
But, the sight of what Maude had served up on the slab instantly destroyed any sort of appetite I might have had. It positively wiped out any feelings of embarrassment I had just been feeling.
“MAUDE!!! YOU KILLED HECTOR!!!”
Laughter was NOT the reaction I expected to receive. Nor was the sight of Maude slapping her knee so hard that her right hand snapped clean off and skittered across the floor. Past the motionless form of Hector Muerte and careening by a second, draped body, finally coming to rest under the bank of chiller drawers.
“Whoa,” Carbon muttered. “It’s a good thing Fraidy’s not here. That scaredy cat? Would have lost his kibble by now.”
But, the loss of limb didn’t seem to faze Maude one little bit.
“Well, fudge,” she said, matter-of-factly. She gestured with her one good hand. “Do you know that’s the second one this week? I think I need to find a new supplier.”
She tottered nonchalantly over to the chillers on two left feet and slid open one long drawer.
“Mmm, let’s see, fingers. No. Noses. No. Although this little button number is adorable. Note to self for allergy season. Left foot. Right foot. Ah!” she exclaimed. “Hands!”
David and I gave a collective shudder. One of the few things we seemed to have in sync lately.
When you were a ghoul, like Maude, I suppose it was a common occurrence for body parts to decay and wear after a while. Fortunately, she kept a ready supply of replacement parts on hand…including right hands as it turns out. She grabbed a Hagedorn needle and some suture thread and, with an expert whip stitch, attached the new appendage in a blink. Easy as if she were cross-stitching “Home, Sweet Home.” She closed the chiller drawer and wiggled the rigor out of her new fingers.
“Good as new! Well, gently used, anyway.” She beamed that thousand-watt smile. I stood, speechless.
“But, Maude!” David finally managed to find his voice and gestured to the motionless body of Maude’s assistant on the slab. “What the Bast happened to Hector?”
My unwilling eyes drifted toward the stationary form. Granted, the zombie had never been a “hop-to” sort of fellow. At best, he sort of slumped along at a snail’s pace, shuffling one size thirteen Doc Marten in front of the other as he went about his daily tasks as assistant coroner. But, his eerily still form rippled another set of shivers down my spine.
An odd, metal halo was fitted around his head. Fierce metal bolts gnashed into his translucent, yellowish skin. His flesh was pulled so tautly over his high cheekbones you could trace the ripple and ridge of each ropy, sinewy vessel beneath. His stringy black hair, already sparse by regular follicular standards, poked fro
m beneath the metal frame in scattered clumps. Hector's pallid lips remained set in rigored stillness.
Maude’s wispy brows knotted in a confused little twist. “Hector? What are you talking about? There’s nothing wrong with Hector. He was helping me with an experiment and must have fallen asleep while I was welcoming you two in. Probably just got bored waiting.” Maude Dulgrey shrugged nonchalantly.
“Waiting for what?” I asked, relief returning my voice now that I knew that Hector wasn't more dead than he usually was. Maude shuffled to an ominous-looking switch on the wall. She paid no mind to Carbon toying playfully with the long, twisting cable that hung limply from the switch. The cord trailed in loops and twists, up and directly into a socket at the crown of the metal millinery on Hector's enormous head.
“Why, a shocking revelation of course!”
Maude threw the big-handled switch and plunged the entire lab into complete and inky darkness.
“Me-YOW-YOW-YOW!!!” Carbon hollered at ear-splitting decibels and launched, claws first, for the popcorn-textured ceiling.
The artificial night lasted only a moment as a bolt of brilliant lightning arced across the room – directly into Hector’s haloed head. Everything glowed a psychedelic electric violet. The chromatograph. The mass spectrometer. The specter of Hector’s rotting, clenched teeth. It was a nightmare scene ripped from the mind of Shelley. The zombie’s big body arched higher than I’d ever seen the cats accomplish. Then suddenly, he started jerking along doing the one-twenty hertz shuffle.
“Betcha didn’t know Hector could dance, huh?” Maude jibed, her bony shoulders shaking in laughter as both David’s jaw and my own dropped nearly clean to the floor. “Although, he’ll never be as spry as Horace Mangler? Did you hear we’re taking dance lessons? For a big man, he’s incredibly graceful.” Maude smiled affectionately, at an intimate memory of Gless Inlet's bartender, Horace Mangler, in dancing flight. I glanced at Maude's two left feet. I could only shake my head before a jagged spark connected with my foot, crisping my beach sandals into fried bits of cowhide. The lab suddenly smelled like smoked jerky. I yelped in pain, instinctively drawing back, and tried to dance feeling back into my smoldering foot.
The Black Diamond Curse (Hattie Jenkins & The Infiniti Chronicles Book 4) Page 6