by Kathy Dexter
“Hey, I handled the cops once. I can do it again. Just as I've done since we were kids.” Beads of sweat glistened on Jones’ forehead. “I told the police chief someone ran out of gas and bought a can. Gave him a legit receipt. Told him the guy paid with cash.”
Fleming took a step back, still grasping Jones’ shirt. “You figured all that out on your own?”
“As soon as the deal got fouled up, I knew we better cover our tracks if the cops came nosin’ around.”
Fleming let go. “Guess you're not as dumb as I thought.”
“You forget how much I done for you all this time. Remember that deal about twenty years back? Easy enough to tinker with the brakes––”
Fleming grabbed Jones’ neck with one hand and swung the other across the man's mouth. “Shut up, you idiot! Don't ever speak of that again, you hear me?” he snarled.
Jones nodded, his fingers scratching against the doctor’s grip.
Fleming shoved him away.
Jones rubbed his neck and rasped, “We can still get the job done. We'll be prepared next time.”
“Are you asking for another chance?” Fleming spat the words.
Jones’ chin came up. “Ain't nobody else around who can handle it.” He stood tall, his thumb pointing at his chest. “We got the manpower and the weapons.”
“I'll let you know.” Fleming climbed into his car and spun out of the station.
Once Jones shuffled his way inside the station, Logan sprinted for his own vehicle. He could stay to see who else might show up at the gas station, but Fleming seemed too good a lead to pass up. Why would a doctor who seemed to have plenty of money set up the robbery at the museum?
Logan slipped his car from the vacant lot and kept his lights off until another vehicle appeared to conceal his pursuit. Logan thought he lost the doctor a couple of times, but the distinctive profile of the sports car stood out in the sparse, late night traffic.
After a few more miles, Fleming swung into a driveway Logan knew well.
Chief Stoner's.
But the chief had planned to meet with the city council. He shouldn’t be home.
Fleming honked his horn a couple of times. Reenie, dressed in fancy clothes, came flying out of the house and down to the car.
First Dave Jones gets chummy with Dad’s wife, and now the doctor’s got some kind of date with the police chief’s wife. What the hell was going on in this town? Logan once more tailed the sports car as it headed downtown, around the Museum of Magic, and up the west side of Mystic Lake. Before long it veered into the brightly lit entrance of the Spirit Winds Casino. Logan waited for a few more cars to enter the premises before he followed and parked on the far side where he’d be least noticed.
As Fleming and Reenie headed to the casino’s entrance, Logan made a couple of calls. He spoke to Clarissa about Sylvia and the purchase of gas. “See if you can figure out what she and Dave Jones are up to.”
“On my way.”
Logan couldn’t reach out to a policeman, not after the chief told him to back off. And what would Stoner do if he found out a detective followed his wife?
He phoned Finn Franklin. “You think you can do some undercover work?”
CHAPTER 22
H UNTER SAT CROSS-LEGGED on the couch, her fingers skimming over the surface of the mysterious box from the secret room in the museum.
She’d put off thinking about the puzzle as long as possible. A little over an hour ago, dinner at the pub had given her a chance to relax, to enjoy a moment of normalcy, to forget about danger and threats. Forget? Hadn’t she come to Mystic Lake to remember?
Logan had driven behind her to the cottage to make sure she arrived safely.
Then he’d kissed her.
A half hour later, her lips still tingled. She hadn’t been able to breathe, heat sizzling inside. But the heat had deserted her when he rushed off to his stakeout. She stroked the box again. Now the realization she might be on the verge of discovering her past chilled her.
What was wrong with her?
Face it. You’re afraid. Of what? The memories of her life, her family? It could destroy the sheltered, untroubled existence you’ve maintained for the last ten years. How? Hunter yanked on a strand of red-gold hair. She hated being such a coward.
If only Logan were here now. His presence reassured her, gave her strength. At the same time, she didn’t like being dependent on him.
Placing the box on the coffee table, she leaped up and hurried to the kitchen, located Clarissa’s tea in the cupboard, filled a mug with water, and set it in the microwave.
Hunter drummed her fingers on the countertop as she waited, trying to untangle the jumble inside her brain.
Logan had labeled the private detective trustworthy. A yearning for company drove her out the front door to the nondescript brown car parked among trees across the road. Empty. She called softly, “Mr. McDonald? Where are you?”
“Right here.” A slight rustle to her left and a human shadow separated from a nearby maple. “Call me Lou. Everything all right, miss?”
“And I’m Hunter, Lou. Come inside, please.” She led the way to the living room. “A beer?”
“I’m on duty, miss. . . Hunter. I have a thermos of coffee in my car.” He looked around. “If there’s no trouble, I should get back to my post. Keep an eye out for intruders.”
“According to my cousin Riley, the Gyld has shields in place that will sound an alarm in the mirror if anyone approaches.” On her way to the microwave and her tea, Hunter pointed to the wall near the kitchen.
“I’ve seen that before.” Lou inspected the mirror close up. “I remember the unicorns. Those creatures with purple wings must have been added later.”
“You know about its particular qualities?”
“Apparently I saw a ghost in its surface one time.” Lou’s lips quirked to one side. “I had a hard time acceptin’ that kind of mumbo jumbo. Still do.”
“Me, too, Lou.” Hunter mirrored his smile. How nice to know someone had doubts similar to hers. She led the way back to the living room area.
“Strange things happen in Mystic Lake, don’t they? But I had to adjust my thinkin’, accept the possibility mumbo jumbo worked, when Riley came to work for me.”
Hunter raised an eyebrow. “My cousin was a private detective?”
“She learned a lot about the business, but that girl’s got some odd ways about her. Has a way of reading minds, knowin’ things beyond the ordinary. We solved a lot of cases as a result.” Lou shook his head. “I miss those days.”
A meow from the back deck distracted Hunter. “That sounds like Shadow.” She put down her tea and hurried to let in the white cat.
Shadow padded across the wooden floor and leaped up to the arm of Lou’s chair. She cocked her head to one side as she stared at the detective.
“Odd eyes,” Lou commented. “One blue, one green. Where have I seen you before, cat?”
“She stays with Clarissa, but she’s come to my rescue on a couple of occasions, including alerting me just before those men attacked the cottage.”
“Maybe that’s why she’s here now. To warn you of another attack. I better check the perimeter.” Lou rose and headed to the back door.
“The shields didn’t go off.”
“If the cat didn’t set them jangling, maybe intruders could manage to avoid them, too.” Lou went outside.
Hunter peered out the window but saw only darkness. She returned to the sofa where the cat now curled on a pillow and gazed with glimmering eyes at the box.
“Well, Shadow, maybe you were meant to help me with this particular adventure.” Hunter stroked the soft, white fur. That simple touch eased her nerves and allowed her to gather the toughness she craved. Hunter picked up the box and turned it over. Then she placed the sapphire amulet in the carved inset.
The dragon shimmered and glowed. Shadow’s hiss fluctuated into a low-pitched burble. Solid wood vibrated with an answering hum, which prickled Hu
nter’s fingers. As she kept her hand on the amulet, bands of light ran along the edges of the box and exposed seams.
Pulses thumping, Hunter flipped over the contraption in order to lift the top with one hand and retrieve her amulet from the indentation with the other. Her eyes popped when she saw the scroll inside.
After she removed the rolled up paper, the seams disappeared and the box returned to its solid state. Hunter breathed slowly, waited for her nerves to relax, and then shifted the box from her lap to the coffee table.
Shadow moved closer, purred, and rubbed her head against Hunter’s shoulder.
Hunter smiled into the blue and green eyes. “Thanks, cat.”
The scroll seemed rather brittle and about to crumble. When had Mary put it in the box? Obviously before she died. Aunt Miranda said her parents had been killed in a car accident more than twenty years ago. When Hunter had been around three? Even if she managed to retrieve her memories, she doubted she’d have many about her grandparents. Yet they’d loved her enough to leave the museum to her, and Mary had concealed her journal in a book of fairy tales she intended for her granddaughter, even written an inscription that seemed directed right to Hunter’s heart today: find the truth.
Yet the book had been missing over two decades in a box in the museum’s basement. Maybe karma and the spirit guides Riley mentioned had brought the book to Hunter when the time was ripe.
Something else niggled. How could the crate be lost for so long? It seemed inconceivable that no one had discovered it after all this time. The other possibility sounded even more implausible––that someone had deliberately hidden the container of books. Why? And why send men to steal it now? Because Hunter had arrived in town?
If she could restore her memory, maybe she’d have the answers to all these questions.
Hunter focused on the fragile scroll and slowly unrolled the document.
Hand-written symbols, mixed with recognizable letters and numbers, danced back and forth across the paper. Eight rows of nonsensical combinations.
It had to be the code that could translate Mary’s journal, but how in bloody blazes could Hunter figure it out?
“Hunter?” Lou stuck his head in the back door. “Everything appears to be in order outside.”
A private detective might have some experience with codes. Or know people who could unscramble such a puzzle.
Before Hunter could say anything, Shadow hurdled the couch and flew across the floor to the back door. She lifted her head and yowled. Then she slipped around Lou’s legs, crossed the deck, and headed toward the woods.
“I guess the cat has her own agenda,” Lou murmured.
Hunter stopped him before he could leave. “Do you have any background in deciphering codes?”
“Used to do some of that in the army.” Lou grinned. “Eons ago.”
After Lou wiped his feet on the outdoor mat and stepped inside, Hunter began to shut the door behind him. She glanced outside to see if Shadow had reached the edge of the woods.
Dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, a woman with curly black hair stood next to the huge maple. She stared toward the cottage, nodded, and faded into the trees.
CHAPTER 23
L OGAN FLAGGED DOWN FINN as he arrived at the casino entrance and pointed to an empty space at the back of the lot next to his own car.
Once parked, Finn jogged to where Logan waited at the bottom of the casino steps. “Covert operations? I wasn’t sure if I should wear a disguise.”
“Not a bad idea. We’ll have to conceal our purpose coming here if we’re going to find the truth. Too many people hiding behind invisible masks.”
“And exactly what truth are we trying to find?”
As a policeman, Logan had to be circumspect about not discussing an investigation in progress. At the same time, Finn’s help was essential. “I’m trying to find a connection between a local guy, Dave Jones, and Dr. Paul Fleming, who came with Hunter Sloane’s Aunt Miranda to the Masquerade Ball last week and stayed on, claiming he’s visiting friends. Hard to picture Jones on the same social level as the doc.”
“Dave owns a run-down gas station and spends most of his time hanging with a bad crew.” Finn stroked his chin. “Yeah, seems improbable he’d be pals with a fancy doctor from the city.”
“Pieces to a jigsaw puzzle. I have no clue how they fit together.”
Finn’s black eyes glinted. “A lot of darkness looming over Mystic Lake lately. An attempted robbery at the museum. A fiery attack on two women. A ten-year-old murder uncovered. Any connections to our visit to the casino?”
Logan could deny it, but those events touched one another somehow. “I don’t know. But the doctor’s here. With the chief’s wife. Jones is Mrs. Stoner’s cousin. A link?”
Finn stared at Logan for several seconds. “You sure you want a reporter as your sidekick?”
Logan chose his words with care. “I can trust you.”
“So we just stumble about, hoping we’ll put the puzzle together?”
“Bingo.”
“Not one of the games played here.”
“Funny guy.”
Finn grinned. “Let’s go see what the good doctor is up to.”
They climbed the wide concrete steps of the gray stone mansion known as Spirit Winds Casino. Painted turtles bordered the windows, while sculpted eagles flew along the round turrets on each corner of the building. Two large animal carvings loomed on each side of the huge walnut doors––black bears on hind legs with menacing teeth exposed. On top of each bear rested a panther head about three feet in height. Sharp-beaked hawks with widespread wings pressed talons into the panthers. Golden brown eyes sparkled in the moonlight.
The two men hurried past the blue uniformed security guards and entered the magical world of the casino.
“Can I help you, gentlemen?” Walt Standing Bear straightened the red carnation pinned to the jacket of his impeccable black tuxedo. Waves of snow-white hair curled along his collar.
“Hiya, Walt,” Finn said cheerily. “Thought we'd stop for a drink and take in the action.”
Standing Bear's face remained impassive. “There's no story here for that tabloid of yours.”
“Now, Walt, give a guy a break.” Finn’s eyes widened innocently. “I'm not always working, you know.”
“Pah! The white man up to his old tricks.” A smile played about Standing Bear’s lips.
Finn flipped his palms up as if he had nothing to hide. “Would I try to put one over on you?”
“Every chance you get.” Standing Bear switched his probing gaze to Logan. “What brings the police here?”
“Like my friend, I also have off-duty hours.” Logan gave a low whistle. “Looking pretty swanky in here, Standing Bear.”
“You should visit more often, detective. We revamped the place six months ago.”
“I’m impressed.” Logan eyed the half-dozen ornate crystal chandeliers, which glowed against the soaring ceilings and the lavish furnishings. Silvery moons and stars splashed across thick, plush carpeting. Colorful silk drapes hugged the windows, matching the fabric of stylish chairs scattered about the entry room, designed for the comfort of the clientele. Gamblers could relax with a drink from the fancy bar when they weren’t spending their money in the gaming rooms. Near the floor-to-ceiling windows, water cascaded from one stone lily pad to another, landing like summer rain in the basin of the eight-foot fountain.
“A lot of glitz,” Finn commented.
“We’ve provided our patrons with glamorous spaces to escape the dreariness of their ordinary lives and experience the magic Spirit Winds promises, a chance at the American Dream.”
Finn sputtered with laughter. “Quite the sales pitch, Walt. Your guests don’t mind losing their shirts when they can’t quite grab that pot of gold?”
“The money they spend provides a comfortable living for the tribe.” Standing Bear bared a wolfish grin.
“Creating illusions,” Logan said.
Standin
g Bear’s words sounded soft, but iron laced them. “Isn’t that the essence of Mystic Lake?”
Logan raised one eyebrow. “Like the totems outside?”
“You approve?” Standing Bear’s demeanor returned to its inscrutable state.
“Of course. My father’s carvings are always impressive.”
Standing Bear gave a brief nod. “Benjamin has a true gift. He's been a friend for many years. I welcome his son. For now.”
“Let's get a drink.” Finn pushed Logan toward the bar.
They ordered beer they could've had at The Lucky Horseshoe for a third of the price. Logan pretended to watch the game on the TV monitor above the rows of high priced liquors lining the wall in back of the bartender. “Is he still watching us?” he murmured out of the side of his mouth.
The reporter swiveled back and forth on his stool. “He's talking to one of his guards and glancing our way. Looks like we'll have eyes on us as we wander about.” Finn sipped his drink. “Say, I’ve tried to get Standing Bear to spill some details about his mysterious tribe. Told him I could write a story that would provide nice publicity for the casino. He played the stoic Indian with that eerie grin full of sharp teeth and wouldn’t say a word.”
“He safeguards his people. Enemy tribes tried to kill their ancestors, obliterate their culture. They survived by disappearing into the landscape.”
“Like the children of Hamelin? One of Walt’s ancestors have a magic pipe?”
“Maybe something other than a pipe was used,” Logan suggested with a straight face.
“Yeah, then the tribe magically materializes twenty years ago with all the legal documents necessary to claim a few acres of land around Mystic Lake. Like the offspring of the Gyld. All of them seeking sanctuary. So why didn’t Walt tell me that?”
Logan jabbed him in the ribs. “Remember, his people endured by remaining anonymous. Who knows what enemies might still wish to destroy them and their heritage?”
“I’m aware that we have a few Neanderthals out to rid this community of magic. Does Walt feel his people might be targets?”