Spells and Jinglebells

by ReGina Welling

  So, then, of course, I proceeded to chase Eclipse through a field of deep snow.

  But every time I caught up to my rodent-hunting moggie, he sprang, unpredictably, in an entirely different direction. After ten minutes or so of chasing I finally gave up and swaggered back to the car, winded, my chest lurching for air.

  “I c-can’t … catch...him,” I breathed.

  Gloom refused to make eye contact with me.

  “Can we make a matching set between us?” Shade said, his eyes brightening. He flopped on his side on the back seat and offered his paws for perusal. Two blue, one green, one purple. Fraidy rolled onto his side. Two purple, one green, one blue.

  Argh! Eclipse was bouncing around out there in no less than four colors then.

  “Gloom, honey,” I pleaded. Actually, I prayed to her. Kneeling in the snow by the side of the car, my hands pressed together in meditation; I whined “Please. Please don’t do this.”

  My sulking cat turned her head toward me at last. She sighed. “I’ll take two purple for the front and two blue for the back, I guess.”

  “Thank you, oh merciful one, thank you,” I said, already snapping Gloom’s color choices into place over her paws.

  Eclipse decided to turn himself in, and trotted to the car with his multi-colored paws. He shook a flurry of flakes from his fur. “We ready to pick mushrooms, then?” He said, acting like he hadn’t just made me run around a field.

  “Come on, guys, let’s get picking.”

  My cats followed me, FINALLY, to Fungal Area 31, and, even after Gloom’s wardrobe meltdown, we managed to have a surprisingly calm, restful, and without-further-incident kind of morning. In a broad green field of mist and sunlight, we harvested the Stillbreath’s in silence.

  I won’t pretend to know what was going on in my cats minds as they helped me pick, but for me? My mind was straining to stay focused on the task at hand. Because my curiosity for what my mission-cats might have found eclipsed every other thought.

  Chapter Eight

  “Nothing?” The uttered word carried the full weight of my disappointment. I asked Carbon again. “Really? Nothing?”

  “It doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist,” Carbon explained, his voice rising. “It just means it wasn’t there at the police station.” The noise level at the Maggoty Apple had reached uproarious levels. The carpeted area in front of the bar had turned into a mini Santa dance floor. Two Father Christmas’s were twirling one another around; both were holding the other’s drunken stupor in a festive embrace. A few different Santa’s danced into the scene to join the two hugging Papa Noel’s.

  Fraidy’s head popped up from my lap. He placed his two front paws on the table. “Donkerton was carrying a file. The photo he showed us. He pulled it from a file, remember?”

  Onyx nodded. “Brother, it makes sense. The Sergeant pulled hard-copied evidence from that folder, so it would be more than a little uncanny if the subject of that file weren't Stella Blazier.”

  I ran a hand through my hair. “Okay, so we know as much about Stella as we did when we got here yesterday, I said. How frustrating. We had nothing. Exactly nothing. I reached for the leader of my kitties and put a gentle finger under his chin. “O? What did you find out?”

  “I regret to inform, not a great deal,” Onyx said, sitting tall next to his sister. “But I will share with you what I discovered, anyway. It is a truth that big mysteries have been instantly unraveled by the presence and accumulation of delicate threads of seemingly insignificant details.”

  Shade scratched his head. “Is that, like, one of those philofossicle wisdom sayings?”

  “No, it’s pomposity,” Gloom said, glaring at her wordsmith brother. “Start again, Shakespeare. This time drop the Elizabethan English.”

  Onyx peered down his nose at his bolshy sister and began. “Mr. Spleener wasn’t very helpful, to be frank. He was happy to discuss his field but in general terms only. Nothing pertaining to Ms. Blazier specifically. Casual banter with Mr. Spleener’s wife and office manager, turned over a tidbit of data, however. Mrs. Spleener was keen to show what kind of satin was chosen for Mrs. Blazier’s coffin, for instance.”

  “Go on,” I said to Onyx. I glanced at my watch. Adorania would be here in fifteen minutes. We needed to unfurl what we had so far, so I could ask the woman some reasonable and intelligent questions.

  “Red satin,” he said. “A rare color option in this day and age.” Onyx paused. “Although, I’m not sure what that could possibly tell us.”

  “Anything about those …” Fraidy swallowed and brought his paws to his ears, preparing himself for blocking out the answer. “....Death Precepts?”

  Onyx shook his head. “You’re safe, dear brother,” he said. “Nothing was revealed with regards to the Blazier precepts. I did find the intake form for Ms.Blazier’s body, however. Enclosed was a copy of the autopsy report, complete with a signature from Medical Examiner, Stan Derminall.”

  “So it said she froze to death?” I asked.

  “Indeed,” Onyx said. “Were you expecting something different, Chimera?”

  I smiled sheepishly at my cat and waved a hand in the air. “No...no, I guess not.”

  What’s on your mind, Chimera?

  It’s ..it’s nothing, O. Go on with your findings, please.

  Why did I feel like something was screaming for my attention? And that this something felt like it was partying just out of sight?

  Onyx nodded. “There was also a break-in,” he said.

  My eyes widened. “A break-in? What do you mean? Anything taken?” I pictured an empty coffin, all billowing red satin and nothing else.

  My mind-reading cat saw my imagination running away with me.

  “No, Chimera, Stella’s body wasn’t taken,” he said. “Mrs. Spleener even checked the coffin the morning of the funeral to make sure of that.” Onyx paused. “No, our dear funeral director’s wife assured me it was just kids. A sound woke her in the very early hours of the morning of Stella’s service. It was still dark, and Mrs. Spleener went downstairs to the workshop to investigate.”

  “What did she find?” I asked.

  “Just a spilled jar of formaldehyde,” Onyx said. “Mrs. Spleener suggests that the kids knocked it over in their haste to get out. They were probably spooked by the presence of Mrs.Blazier’s corpse. Mrs. Spleener said that it wasn’t the first time kids had broken in and it wouldn’t be the last, either. She said the kids have their own ways, morbid or not, to discover the truths about death.”

  “You’re sure the kids didn’t take anything?” I said. “Mrs. Spleener checked --”

  “Yes. She did, Chimera. Stella and the items she was buried with were all still there.” Onyx narrowed his eyes. “Although, Mrs. Spleener said she thinks the kids had messed with Stella’s hair.”

  “What made her say that?” Eclipse said.

  “I know nothing of the specifics, dear brother,” Onyx replied. “But, Mrs. Spleener suggested that the corpse’s previously styled hair-do looked a little disheveled to her eyes.”

  “Okay,” I said, drumming the table with impatient fingers. “Did Mrs. Spleener let on what Stella was wearing? What artifacts were in the coffin with her?”

  “Regrettably, no,” Onyx said. “She just indicated that everything in the coffin was as it should be.”

  “So what else?” Gloom huffed.

  “Dear, sister, you are now apprised of all I know. The red satin, I feel, has a significance in some --”

  “Oh, man, are you being serious?” Midnight interrupted. “That’s it?”

  “As I mentioned before, dear brother, it is sometimes the little det--”

  “Guys, enough,” I said, clapping my hands together. “Thanks for the report, O, but I don’t think your red satin is going to be the thread that holds this case together.”

  “Talking about threads,” Eclipse said. “Are you going to bring that to the table in your discussion with Adorania?”

  I pinched the
blue silk in my pocket and nodded.

  “When I show her the bracelet and the fabric, guys,” I said. “It’s important that you’re watching for her reaction, okay?”

  “You kidding me?” Gloom said. “Human guilt’s as easy to catch as SALMON swimming upstream.”

  Shade bobbed his head. “Yeah, if Adorania’s guilty of grave-worship we’ll know right away, I reckon.”

  “Wanna know what I found, boss?” Midnight jumped onto the table. On an impulse, I leaned over and kissed my handsome cat between the eyes. Middie gave a purr-burst and headbutted my cheek.

  “Go on, honey,” I said.

  “Well, I found the cabin. It was pretty well hidden in the pines up there,” he said, nodding to some indeterminate place far beyond the walls of the Apple. “But, you know me, I won’t drop the scent until I’ve sniffed things out.” Midnight stuck his chest out, fully preparing himself for his self-aggrandizing session. “So there’s nothing much up there except a pack of scruffy coyotes and a whole bunch of those Godmarsh toads. The cabin looked empty when I first got there; no smoke coming from the chimney or anything like that. No lights on or sounds from the television.” My night-prowling cat paused, making sure he had everyone’s attention.

  “There’s a point to this story, right?” Carbon said.

  “Yeah, yeah, brother, chill,” Midnight replied holding up his paws. “So, I was about to walk away, thinking there was nobody home, that it was just an empty cabin, you know? So, I turn to leave, when I hear a noise behind me. I pop a squat behind a conifer, and I look back at the house. And, guess who’s coming out the door?” Midnight’s black eyes moved from face to captive face.

  “Drunk Santa!” He said, and fell on the table laughing.

  I screwed up my face. “Wait, what? Drunk Santa?”

  “Yep, plain as day,” Midnight said, wiping a mirthful tear from his eye. “He probably thought he was gonna get some milk and cookies.” The cats fell about in various states of laughter. I pushed back from the table, motor-boating my lips. Cat humor. So bizarre. Something a human can never hope to understand. As mysterious as those spine-tingling moments when your cat suddenly turns his head to a point in the room and stares. Stares like there’s something there.

  “Yeah, that’s sidesplitting funny,” I said. “But, Middie, how could you have known that it was drunk Santa if he was in costume?”

  Midnight twitched his ears. “Easy,” he said. “He had a red wine stain on his fur trim. The wine Jet poured over him yesterday."

  Jet tittered. “Bullseye! Yep!” he gushed. My zippy kitty was clearly quite proud that his bar-demolition had made its mark in the world.

  Gloom wrinkled her nose. “Ew, what animal doesn’t wash after he gets something on his fur?”

  I clenched my jaw. “Guys, do you want to eat salmon for Christmas dinner, or not?”

  The laughter stopped. Gloom squinted at me, bringing her paws to her side in a slow, smooth, downward slide. If my embittered cat had been allowed to carry firearms, I’d have been ducking for cover right about now. “You know we can’t get out of this burg,” she said. “Why taunt us with your spiteful salmon jokes when you know we can’t get through the avalanche?”

  “Nope, nope, not nice, nope,” Jet said, swinging his head from side to side.

  Iris Crimple came over. “Get you lovelies anythin’ else?” She asked, nodding to my glass and the eight empty saucers. I smiled at the landlady. “We’re good for now, Iris, thanks so much.” But, Iris noticed the Infiniti’s glum expressions.

  “You honies not happy with the cream I gave ya?”

  The Infiniti looked at her. Jowls long, lips trembling, eyes brimming with self-pity; my kitties shook their heads in unison. It was an award-worthy performance. Their best yet, I’d say.

  “Oh, please,” I muttered.

  But Iris remained concerned. “My darlin’s, whatever’s wrong?” She bent over the table until her chins swung just over the cats heads. Shade gave a few playful swats of the landlady’s pendulous bits but otherwise kept up his Oliver Twist act.

  I sighed. “They want to get back to Glessie, Iris. A salmon is waiting for them there. It’s a tradition,” I said, rolling my eyes.

  “But yer scared because you don’t think the avalanche will be cleared in time?”

  Iris didn’t wait for an answer. She nodded, more to herself than to us, and wandered back to the bar through a sea of partying Santa’s.

  “At least Iris understands,” Fraidy said.

  I shook my head. “Listen, guys; I wasn’t taunting you about the salmon. Honestly, I wasn’t. It’s just … don’t ask me why, but I have this feeling. I think we’re gonna make it home.”

  My cats swiveled their eyes to my face. It was clear to me: They saw only a mad woman.

  “Ms. Opal?” A thin voice interrupted. I stood up to greet Adorania Blazier. I pumped her hand with both of mine.

  “Thanks so much for coming, Adorania. May I call you that?” I said, sitting back down.

  Stella’s sister blew an errant strand of hair from her face and nodded. Her eyes searched the room as she sat down.

  “Well, I’m not sure what I can offer you, Ms. Opal, that will help you find Leland,” she said, her eyes still darting in all directions.

  I gave a theatrically ‘casual’ shrug and leaned back in my chair smiling. “Well, as they say, it’s only the finest threads that are left dangling in the big cases.”

  Gloom slapped a paw to her forehead and rolled her eyes.

  I cleared my throat. “Adorania,” I said, leaning in and tenting my fingers on the table in front of me. “I’d like you to think very carefully. Back to the day your sister came home from work early. The day you and Leland were playing squash, can you do that?”

  Adorania gave me a curt nod. She drew her elbows close to her side, no doubt trying to create some distance between her and my cats.

  “Do you think there’s any chance that your sister may have overheard yours and Leland’s conversation about the land deal? While you were playing squash?”

  She shook her head but said nothing.

  I tried again. “We have reason to believe your sister may have overheard her husband and you conspiring behind her back. We also believe that this might well be the reason you didn’t attend your sister’s funeral.” I didn’t pose my speculations as questions. I had to break through to this woman somehow, so I figured if she needed to defend herself she would.

  Adorania shook her head again and bit her bottom lip. I could see tears building under her thick eyelashes. She let one fall, and then looked at me.

  “If Stella heard anything at all, it was her husband and me….” she wrung her hands on the table. “Leland and I were ….” More tears fell.

  Shade placed a paw on Adorania’s arm. His voice was all tenderness when he said: “Lady, were you and Stella’s husband doing a bit of matin’ on the side, like?”

  “Shade!” I shrieked. My cat’s mouth hung open, his eyes wide with kitty-innocence.

  “Adorania, please, forgive my cat,” I said, giving Shade a stern look. “He’s like a bull in a china--”

  “He’s right.” She said. “Leland and I … we were … lovers.” The woman’s head dropped forward, her shame temporarily hidden.

  I didn’t know what to say. To be honest, I wasn’t really thinking of this woman’s predicament. But I was certainly jolted by the fact that our case had just taken a sharp and unforeseen turn. My every nerve began to vibrate.

  A small team of Santa's staggered from the bar, all jostling to get out of the door, while another walked in. I watched as the lone Santa walked to a recently vacated table to the left of us, only to be beaten by two young lovebirds. He grunted and sauntered over to the bar instead. The sea of red and white in the bar had dwindled down to erratic waves. Maybe all the Saint Nick’s had gone out to make deliveries. Or, even more likely, back to their wives and families. Only a few of the more inebriated Father Christmas’s rem
ained. I turned my head back to Adorania.

  “I’m sure that couldn’t have been an easy situation to be in,” I empathized. “And, I’ve no doubt that having to stay away from your sister’s funeral was even harder.” I paused. “Adorania, were you forced to stay away from the service because of one of the Blazier Precepts?”

  “The Blazier Death Precepts,” she whispered; more to herself than to us. She looked up. “Do you know how archaic these death orders are?” She asked. “Do you know that one of the Blazier precepts is that only red satin may be used as a coffin liner? Know why that is?”

  I shook my head.

  “Because the mighty Blazier’s believe that our blood will run from our bodies into the soil we are buried in. An arrogant statement to let the world know that, we, the Blazier’s, will one day inherit the earth.” She looked at us. “Can you believe that? My family thinks this planet belongs to them. And, now we’re spearheading the Red Orb Program, because, apparently, one planet isn’t enough.” She shook her head and her eyes filled with fresh tears.

  “Wait, so you’re saying your sister wasn’t embalmed?” I asked.

  Stella’s sister nodded. She pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve and blew her nose.

  Something flashed from under the woman’s sleeve. “Blazier funerals are closed casket. Always,” Adorania confirmed. “And, as for what kept me away from Stella’s burial ...I cheated on my sister. And, yes, it was one of the precepts. Infidelity is, and always has been, a big no-no in my family.” She wiped at her tears with the handkerchief, revealing another glint of metal from beneath her sleeve.

  I pointed to her wrist. “Your bracelet,” I said. “Mind if I take a look?”

  Adorania looked puzzled but lifted her sleeve. A gold bracelet. She turned the engraving plate toward us to show us the initials engraved there: A.B

  “Nice jewelry,” I said, smiling. “I’m guessing those are your initials?”

  She nodded dumbly. “It has … sentimental value.”

  “Enough sentimental value to have two copies made?” Midnight piped up.