All of this had to mean something. Someone put this rhyme in this book for a reason. Nichelle had it with her for a reason, and she wanted to show it to Phil, who had no clue. I love puzzles, but this was maddening. What was the rhyme trying to tell me?
Cass came back into the room with a bulging folder and placed it on the table. “Look what I found in the census records.”
The folder’s tab said Thomas Augustus Blue. It had his picture clipped to the inside of the folder. He was a handsome man, with dark skin, close-cropped hair and a half-smile. This was most likely his job photo. He wore a flag pin on his lapel. Beneath it were a medical report on his death, a clipping of his obituary and another picture of a little girl.
“Is that…” Beverly said as she stepped closer. “Is that a police file?”
My gaze traveled to the closed folder inside this folder. It was one of those string-close kind, with a round red button the string wrapped around. I picked it up and looked at the other side. KELL, BRENDA 10/12/1998. “Oh my stars…this is the missing file. It was in Detective Blue’s obituary folder?”
“How did you know to look there?” Beverly asked Cass.
“I didn’t,” Cass replied. “The librarian before me always kept the obits with the census stuff. She thought it was easier to keep up with deaths as well as births that way. So I figured his obituary would be there. And it was. Only that was stuffed inside.”
“I doubt Detective Blue put it there,” I said. “I don’t think this folder would have been there if he were still alive. But someone hid the files there, thinking no one would ever find them.”
Cass leaned her hands on the table. “Or keeping them safe. You think the husband was looking for them and the sheriff before Danvers hid them there?”
“No idea. Who has access to these files?”
“Anyone who signs in. But those could have been in there twenty years ago or just a year ago. We’d have to go through every logbook—”
“In the past twenty years,” Beverly said. “I’ll do it. This is the kind of stuff I love.”
“You’re hired,” I said as I opened the folder and started to pull out the contents.
Started to, because that was when someone knocked on the door. And it was a very loud knock.
We were all very paranoid at that moment, so I stuffed everything back together and shoved the folder in my bag seconds before Cass opened the door. I wasn’t sure who I expected to see there, but it wasn’t Phil. He looked excited as his gaze landed on me. “I have to talk to you. Now.”
“Phil, I’m a little busy—”
“Your very soul depends on it.”
Huh? Cass and Beverly looked at me with blank expressions.
I had no idea what he was talking about. “Okay, fine. Outside, Phil.”
He left, and I put my hands on my face. “What in the world is going on here?”
“No idea. But when you figure it out, call me,” Cass said. She motioned for Beverly to follow her. “You’re going to love the census room…”
I made sure my bag was closed and Max was with me as I left the library. Phil stood on the edge of the parking lot, a good distance from the building. He came at me as I neared. I put up a hand, and Max hissed.
Phil saw Max and stepped back. “That’s the demon.”
Max and I were both taken aback by that comment. “I’ve been called many things, even demon,” Max said. “But I’m not sure I like the tone you’re using.”
“It talks!” Phil stepped back.
Oh, great. Bad time for Phil to hear Max. “Max is fine. He’s my—”
“Familiar. So you said. But who controls the familiar?”
“Nobody.” Max looked up at me. “Is he for real?”
“I don’t know. Phil, what is wrong with you? An hour ago, you seemed sane and rational in Melody’s store. Where did that guy go?”
“We left the antique store and tried to get into the Delaney House again—did you know there are tigers and panthers and even a leopard guarding that house?”
This was getting weird. Even for me. “Okay, yeah. Crime scene. No touchy. Then what?”
“We sought a place for coffee and sweets to think about what we are going to do. Harper called the show’s producer, the one who is going to sue the pants off your town if we can’t get back in that house—”
“Move on, Phil, or I’m leaving.”
He hesitated. “Miss Mildred Thumper entered the Magpies & Muffins store. She came to warn us. About you. The Blackstones.”
Now it was making more sense. “Mildred Thumper believes everyone in this town is a demon. We’re all the devil’s spawn.”
“Your family is a kind family, Ginger. I wouldn’t believe you were devil’s spawn. But I do know what that doctor is.”
Max put his paw against the side of his little face. “Oh noes…”
“That mark, Ginger. It’s that mark. Having seen what your sister is capable of gave me the strength to seize an opportunity of my own.”
“And what opportunity is that, Phil? Because I’m thinking if Danvers doesn’t find Nichelle’s killer—”
“Oh, but that’s it. Don’t you see? It was the vampire. The doctor killed Nichelle.”
“This guy is certifiable,” Max said, and leapt onto my shoulder. He leaned out, and Phil took a step back. “Idiot—Nichelle Corvis was killed with a knife. Why would a vampire kill with a knife?”
“To hide his mark,” Phil countered. “Like on your neck.” He pointed at me. “He’s got you, and he came after me because of my relationship with you. He’s setting me up. He’s framing me for that murder. But I won’t let him get away with it.”
“I suggest,” I said as I balled my hands into fists, “that you stop worrying about David. That you stop worrying about me. That you start worrying about who killed Nichelle. And more importantly, are they coming after the rest of you?”
He blinked. “What?”
I stopped. I couldn’t tell him that more powerful…er, unconventionals in Castle Falls didn’t want him here. He wouldn’t understand. None of them would. And it didn’t occur to me until just now that Nichelle’s murder could be someone’s way of throwing off the filming of a show in the Delaney House. It would be the simplest explanation. But in my life, nothing’s ever been simple.
“Phil, go back to Harper and Brett. Just relax and see the sights. Leave the Delaney House alone until this is solved.”
He didn’t respond for a full minute, then said, “You’re probably right. I’m getting worked up over nothing, aren’t I? I mean, there’s no way a vampire is better than I am in bed.”
I was outta here. I threw up my hands and started for the car. He didn’t pursue, and I wanted to get as far away from this crazy person as I could. I needed a quiet, secluded place to look at these files. A place where no one else would go.
And I knew just the place.
TWELVE
“You sure this is a good idea?” Max’s tone worried me. He was usually fierce about doing new things, trying new experiences.
“Yeah,” I said as I pulled up to the gate of the Delaney House. “It’s quiet and secluded, and no one will bother me while I read this file.”
I rolled the window down, and Deputy Perrin looked in. “Hey, Ginger. You know I can’t let you into the house.”
“It’s okay. I have a few things I need to check out for Danvers. You can call him if you want.” It was a risky suggestion, since Perrin might actually call the sheriff, but I was gambling on the knowledge that it was lunchtime and the sheriff didn’t like being disturbed during this time. His lunch was sacrosanct.
Perrin seemed to weigh the choices. “Just don’t mess things up, okay?”
“No worries.” He let us in, and as I approached the looming mansion, a weight settled on my shoulder. “Do you feel that?” I asked Max.
“I felt it the whole time I was here last night.” Max sat in the passenger seat. “It’s like the house feels guilty.”
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“Or it’s full of dread. Like it knows something happened—”
“Or is gonna happen.” Max shivered.
I decided to ignore that. I parked as close to the front door as I could, and the officer up front nodded. I saw a few huge tigers nearby and waved at them. I knew they were all part of Perrin’s family and he’d sent them a message about me through their shifter link. Otherwise, I’d never make it inside.
Max and I stood in the center of the foyer. “It just feels like I’m being watched,” I said, and did not like the way my voice echoed. We went to the living area and then to the fireplace. It was still open, rolled forward. We stepped behind it, and I saw the mark where Nichelle’s body had been found. I also spotted a few other pieces of trash left behind by the crime scene unit. Not that we had one. Danvers had mentioned before I left last night that he’d put in a call for Westminster’s unit. It always cost to have them sweep through and process, but until we got our own together, that was the best we could do. I knew there were two witches who worked there, so if anything came up…uh, abnormal…it disappeared. But we were informed.
I faced the fireplace, looked up at the painting and gave myself a mental kick. I meant to ask Beverly about that painting. If it once hung in the main room…why was it back here? I moved back to the living room and looked up at the blank mantel. There was a faint outline where it once hung. Was there something about the painting that someone didn’t like? Had the Kells moved it?
Did the Kells know about this library room? Nichelle apparently did. And Danvers had known about it. A quick look around and I didn’t see any bookshelves. Nor did I see a place to spread all this stuff out. I went back behind the fireplace and picked a desk in the far corner. A quick check and the lamp on top of it came on. The bulb was new and there wasn’t any dust on the desk. In fact, the entire surface was cleaned off. I pulled the folder from my bag, carefully opened up Blue’s file and dumped the contents out. There were handwritten notes, ripped out of a detective’s notebook, along with newspaper clippings about the Kell murder. There were negatives tucked into a plastic pouch, along with a clipped stack of prints. Some of the prints had stuck together over the years, and I couldn’t break them apart. Out of what looked like fifty shots, I could only see five of them. And those were of Brenda Kell’s body.
On a whim, I started taking pictures of everything in the folder, even the stuff I couldn’t figure out. Once I had them done, I made sure they were uploaded to my cloud before I got busy looking at the photos.
I was going to have nightmares for weeks. She hadn’t just been stabbed. Whoever killed her wanted to make sure she was dead. I pulled up the preliminary coroner’s report, and it’d been written up as a single stab wound. Huh? I looked at the pictures again. No, I could clearly see about…ten marks on the autopsy photo.
Wait a minute. Why was there an autopsy photo in the middle of crime scene shots? Didn’t the ME actually take the shots of the body? I pulled out the negative and held them up to the small lamp until I found the exact photo I was looking at. It was at the end of the roll. But taken with the same camera. Again, I looked at the autopsy. Single stab wound.
Max jumped up on the table, and I showed it to him. “Well, that’s weird. You think maybe this Detective Blue took photos of the crime scene, read that report and then went into the morgue to photograph the actual body?”
“Maybe. I can’t read his notes. His handwriting’s terrible.” I was able to get a few sentences.
The first ME’s report said there were two types of blood found on Miss Kell. But when I checked later, it’s now saying there was only one.
I went back to those photos I took, and if I look at photos C & E, that looks like blood spatter. She wouldn’t have spattered that way from her wounds.
I see ten wounds. Why does this new report say one?
That was all I could make out. I tried to pry a few more photos loose so I could see photos C and E, but that wasn’t going to happen. I did see that Detective Blue had marked the photos with a pen in the upper right corner.
“Maybe you should get those negatives developed?” Max said.
“Yeah, and you know as well as I do that guy at the pharmacy looks at everyone’s pictures. He’ll see these and call someone, and then everyone will know I have pictures of a murdered woman. I wish Daphne was still in town. She’s a great photographer.”
Daphne Blackstone was my younger sister. She lived in New Orleans. I hadn’t seen her in years.
I went back to those notes. Two types of blood and a spatter on Miss Kell. Had that been from her defending herself and actually wounding her assailant? Or was that someone else’s blood—as in another victim?
Man, my brain worked weird sometimes.
I looked up to think for a bit and spotted a small glass-front bookcase across the room. I hadn’t seen it before. It looked like an antique. Needing to stretch, I made my way to it. It was shoulder high and the wood was stained a very dark color. In the dim light, it was hard to see. The front glass had a lock on it, but the lock had been opened and hung to look, from a distance, as if it were still locked. I went back to my purse and grabbed a few tissues so I could use them to touch the lock and remove it. Once I had it set on top of the case, I opened the glass door for a better look.
Inside were small books, all very near the size of the one I had in my purse. They were all different colors, with gold stamps along their spine. The case had seven shelves, but the books took up only the two middle ones. I pulled one out and opened it. I was pretty sure the language was French. I pulled another one out and recognized kanji. Japanese.
I retrieved the book from my bag and noticed a space where mine would fit in—and it did! Was this the case where Nichelle had pulled the book? Had she opened the lock and made it look like it was closed? How did she know the book was here?
Ah! Too many questions. No answers.
I went back to the desk and sat down. With a sigh, I pulled up the notes again and tried to decipher one that was pretty close to being legible. It was the second-to-last word that made no sense.
Most of what I found has to do with what she was holding. I’d seen it in her hand when I got to the scene. I took a picture of it. But when I went back, it was gone. It took me a while to find #$%^$@ again.
Find what again? I started picking out letters, and then Max jumped in to help. After half an hour of hair pulling, we came up with giftwoter. Which, of course, made no freakin’ sense. But as I stared at it, I put two dots above the O.
Giftwöter.
I’d seen that word before. Printed. I grabbed the blue book and opened it to the first page where the rhyme had been scribbled, then I turned the page to the table of contents.
There it was. Right there! In the middle of the page! It was the title of this book.
But what in blazes did that mean? Giftwöter.
So I googled it.
“Poison words,” I said, and with that translation came two articles about the salacious book by famed French smut writer Avoie Chrétienne. Said book was the story of a woman who was betrayed by her female and male lovers, who stole her money, murdered her in her home, walled her up inside and ran off together.
I sat back. “Max…”
“Yeah, I’m thinking the same thing.”
“Good.” I looked at him where he sat on the desk next to the book. “Then explain it to me.”
“That somehow Nichelle Corvis saw the detective’s notes, learned about this book and went looking for it in this house. She found it.”
“And someone killed her.” I picked up the negatives again and looked at each one carefully. About twenty shots in, I found a picture of what looked like Brenda Kells’ hand, and in her hand was a small book. “I need to have this printed.” I didn’t know how I was going to do it. I thought about David. Maybe he knew someone who could help me get a print of it.
I packed everything back up, nice and neat, into my bag. “Max, show me the parts
of the house you thought were odd.”
“Oh, sure. But let’s do this fast. It’s already after three and I’m hungry. Can we have spaghetti tonight? Or was there any leftover manicotti?”
He was such a cartoon cat sometimes.
I remembered the route we used to take through the house for the Halloween attraction. All of the rooms looked the same and they’d all been staged. That much I knew. One room was where the brothers made plans for the house. Another was the alleged bedroom the brothers created for Brigit, which was an elaborate bedroom in the back of the house with an open terrace that overlooked a well-manicured garden. Most of the items in the rooms were roped off because they were antiques. But as I walked through the upstairs bedroom, something fell near the bed. Max made a pfft noise and jumped on my shoulders.
I moved the dusty old red rope away and made my way to the satin canopy. I didn’t see anything that looked like it’d toppled over, but what I did notice was something in the headboard.
“Are those initials?” Max hopped onto the pillows and put his paw beside them.
“It looks like it. JMD plus BEK. Maybe some high schoolers got up here and did the deed in the bed. You know, for a thrill.”
“I think I lost my appetite.”
I laughed, and as I turned, I spotted a blank wall, though a long, rectangular outline showed where something used to hang there. I went back to the ropes and noticed the nook where it hung was hard to see. Tourists who came through the house, but not on Halloween, often took pictures of the room. So I googled it and thumbed my way through dozens of Photobucket albums dedicated to the Delaney House.
Eventually I found a few of Brigit’s room that did include that nook. The more recent shots showed a blank wall. But one of them showed…
“Max…”
“Hmm?” He was on my shoulder and poked his head out. “What?”
I held the phone up so he could see it. “What painting is that?”
The Cat Jumped Over the Moon Page 9