by Morgana Best
I tried to push the heavy, old, wooden window up, but at first it wouldn’t budge. Finally, I got it open enough for Diva, but when I reached for her, she moved slightly away, and just out of reach. I encouraged the window up further, until I could just squeeze through it. I stuck my head and shoulders through and reached for Diva, but again, she jumped away.
I muttered all sorts of unpleasant things under my breath. "Nice puss, puss," I said aloud in the nicest tone I could muster, but Diva was having none of it.
I wiggled forward until she was just in reach and then lunged for her. With split second timing, she jumped on a shelf, and then shimmied up the shelving like a ninja. I stayed, half in, half out the window, and wondered what to do next. If I climbed through the window, that would be breaking and entering. If I didn’t, and left Diva in there, what would Cassandra do to her?
With a sigh of resignation, I pushed myself through the window, and stood up in the little room. It was a horrid little room, with dirty, ancient linoleum covering the floor. Hideous, gray striped wallpaper peeled off the walls. There were some dead African violets on a rickety shelf just next to the window. The only purpose of the room seemed to be an entrance for the back door, perhaps a mud room, as there was large, metal sink. A couple of old oilskin coats hung from pegs on the wall, and there was pile of moldy looking washing on the floor. It looked as if Cassandra had forgotten to hang it out weeks ago.
Diva looked down on me from on top of the shelving. Luckily, there was an old, wooden door to the rest of the house, so I shut that. Diva's only way out was now through the window. I climbed on an old, wooden stool, hoping it would take my weight, and tried encouraging her again. "Here, puss, puss," but that only brought a glare. I adjusted my stance on the stool and reached out for her.
Diva was not impressed. She hissed and leaped off the top shelf, and in one extra bound, was through the window. My relief was short lived as she knocked down several bottles from the shelf in her escape. Luckily they landed on the pile of old washing, so didn’t break.
I picked up them up to put them back on the shelf. I had to hurry before Cassandra came home and caught me red handed. Whatever would she say!
There was an old, unopened, green packet of something labeled soda crystals, a bright red packet of something called Daz which I assumed was laundry powder - thankfully it was unopened too although looked as if it belonged in a museum and as if snails had been chewing on it, and half a glass bottle of something called Marshall Bluing. Lucky for me, that lid was on tightly or the bright, blue liquid would've covered everything. I climbed back on the stool and shoved everything back on the top shelf, way above my head, and then reached for the last bottle.
It was the only item not covered in thick dust, and as I picked it up from the pile of dirty washing, I turned it over to read the label.
I gasped. It read, "Sodium Selenite oral solution for cattle use: veterinary medicine." The bottle was not full.
I caught my breath as everything swirled around me. Cassandra was my aunt's murderer!
"Time spent with cats is never wasted."
(Sigmund Freud)
Chapter 17.
I put the bottle back, and tried to make everything look as if I not been inside Cassandra's house. I remembered to open the internal door, and then I climbed back though the window. I took me quite some time to manage to close the window to its original position.
I was shaking badly, but hurried away as fast I could in the direction of the front of the house. To my enormous relief, Cassandra's car was not out the front. I sank down on Aunt Beth's front doorstop with relief.
Now what to do? Should I call the police? And tell them what? That my aunt, whose death was officially recorded as No Suspicious Circumstances, had been murdered with a selenium overdose by her elderly neighbor? The police would surely just laugh at me. Yet I had do something.
I hurried back inside the house and sat at the kitchen table, still wondering what to do. I poured a glass of wine, and sipped it slowly. Then to my horror, the doorbell rang. What if it was Cassandra? What would I do? How could I act as if nothing was wrong? Surely she would see it on my face. Perhaps I wouldn’t answer the door. She would surely know something was wrong then.
The doorbell rang again, so I walked to answer it, my heart in my stomach.
I opened the door. It was Cassandra.
"Misty, have you had dinner yet?"
I shook my head and tried to act normal. My heart was thumping so loudly that I wondered if she could hear it. "No, I feel a migraine coming on. I was about to go to bed."
Cassandra narrowed her eyes at me, and I was dreadfully afraid that she had perceived the difference in my manner. "Thank you dear, but I've come to say I've made us dinner. Would you like to come over?"
"Sorry, Cassandra, but I don’t feel well enough to come over for dinner. Thanks, anyway."
Cassandra was clearly determined. "Well, I did make you dinner, so come over and get it. You can eat it later. Or I could just bring a plate back over for you now?"
I had no idea what to do. If I continued to refuse, Cassandra would be suspicious. I figured there was no harm in following her into her house; after all, she was a frail, elderly lady, and I certainly had no intention of eating or drinking anything she gave me. I told myself that I’d be in no danger.
"Thanks, Cassandra. I'll come over and get it now, and then I’ll go straight to bed."
Cassandra smiled politely. "Good, dear."
I picked up the door keys from the hallstand and followed Cassandra next door to her house. My pulse was racing and my legs were weak.
Even in my fearful state, I noted that Cassandra's decor was not what I expected, not at all. I had expected an interior to match the dirty mud room, but Cassandra's living room was completely trendy and minimalist chic. Not a lace doily in sight.
Cassandra beamed at me. "Have a seat, dear while I find something to put your dinner in. Ill give you bottle of wine too - red or white wine?"
"Umm, red, please." I had absolutely no intention of eating or drinking anything Cassandra gave me. It was going into the trash as soon as I got home, and I intended to pour the wine down the sink.
Cassandra soon returned and handed me the bottle of red and container. "I hope you like roast chicken."
I plastered a false smile on my face and tried to stop my knees from trembling. "Thanks, Cassandra. I love roast chicken." I stood up and turned to leave.
Cassandra's voice came from behind. "Was that Beth's lawyer who came earlier?"
I turned back reluctantly, anxious to get away from Cassandra as soon as possible. "Yes, do you know him?"
Cassandra took a step closer to me and I steeled myself not to take a step back. "I met him at Beth's once. I hope you have done well out of the will?"
I nearly blurted out what had actually happened, but remembered in time. "Sad to say, he simply came to tell me that he couldn't tell me anything yet, except for the fact that I didn't get anything except for Diva the cat."
Cassandra laughed. She must have thought that really funny, for her laugh got higher and higher.
Her face got longer. I felt very tired all of a sudden. Suddenly Cassandra was bending over me. I hadn't seen her move. "Misty, where's the page?"
"What?"
Cassandra grabbed my face and squeezed my cheeks hard. "Don't make it worse for yourself; tell me now."
I tried to walk away but my head swum. I felt horribly sick; nothing made sense. As I staggered, the chain fell forward.
"Ahh!" Cassandra seized the chain. "Have you found the page?"
My mouth felt dry. "Cassandra, what's going on?"
"Tell me where the page is!" She slapped me hard across my face.
That was the last thing I remembered.
I woke up on a bed, my hands and feet tied to the bedposts. I felt sick and groggy. My only coherent thought was that Cassandra was stronger than she looked, to carry me up the stairs. Cassandra was no sweet o
ld lady.
Just when I thought things couldn't get any worse, the presence returned. I felt its hot breath in my ear. "The page, the page." I screamed, or more like, croaked, as my mouth was dry and my throat constricted.
I opened my eyes for a moment but my head hurt. Cassandra was standing by the bed, but she did nothing to acknowledge my presence. I noticed her pale hands hanging limply by her sides. Her fingers were long, as were her fingernails which were painted red. Her skin was very pale and her face difficult to look at. It seemed to shimmer in overlapping planes. Her age was impossible to tell; she seemed ageless. If I had to sum her up in one word I would say "cruel," but cruelty implies emotion, and this woman - creature - had none. She was the most terrifying thing I had even seen.
She did not speak to me, but when she at last turned her gaze on me, goose bumps broke out all over my body and my hair felt like it was standing on end. A chill ran through my very depths. I faded back into oblivion, and stayed in a foggy state until I heard someone call my name.
"Misty?"
"Douglas! Douglas, help, where are you?"
"Over here. Misty, are you all right? I've been so worried!"
I wondered why Douglas wasn't coming to me, and gingerly lifted my head. There, in a large chair, was Douglas. His feet and hands were tied, and a length of rope was wrapped around his chest.
I wanted to ask what had happened but I felt too sick and weak, so just lay there.
"Misty, are you hurt?"
"I feel sick. What happened? You okay?" It was quite an effort to say the words.
"Misty, I've been so worried." His voice was full of concern. "I came over here looking for you and found Cassandra there. She pulled a gun on me and made me carry you upstairs. She tied me up and then tied you up. I've been so worried about you. She wanted to know if I knew where the page was."
I managed to speak again. "Yes, she asked me too."
Cassandra walked into the room. "Sorry to break up this happy little reunion, but I'm running out of patience." Cassandra walked over to me and waved a big gun in my face. "Do you know what this is?"
"A gun." I didn't want to sound like I was being smart to a gun toting maniac but didn't know what else to say.
"Yes, and this bit here is the silencer." She tapped the end of the gun. "Tell me where the page is."
"If you kill me, you'll never find it."
"Obviously. That's why I'm going to shoot this man." I heard Douglas's sharp intake of breath as she aimed the gun at him. "This is not a game, Misty. I will shoot him. Why do you care about the page? It's nothing to you. I don't want to kill either of you. If you give me the page, you can both go free. If you tell the police, they won't believe you."
"You killed Aunt Beth!" My voice sounded hysterical. I tried to calm my breathing, and focus. Everything was swimming and I was afraid I would be sick.
Cassandra snorted rudely. "No, she killed herself with a selenium overdose. The Keeper always uses selenium for such purposes. Cyanide's only for movies. After the cavern collapsed, she knew I was going to make her tell me where the page was."
"Weren't you in the same Society?"
"Yes, and she was the Keeper of the Dashwood Trust. When she found out I was also in the Black Lodge and wanted to use the ritual, she would have destroyed the paper, but didn't have time."
"Didn’t have time for what?" As drugged as I was, I tried to put the pieces together. Cassandra said that Aunt Beth had killed herself but also that she didn’t have time to destroy the page. Surely she would have destroyed the page before killing herself?
That was when the penny dropped; I had finally figured out the motive for murder. Cassandra had been unable to find the page, and must have believed that Aunt Beth was about to destroy it. Cassandra must have figured she would murder Aunt Beth to prevent her destroying the page, and then continue her search for the page with Aunt Beth out of the way.
Cassandra had walked over to me. "Misty, tell me where the page is. What's it to you if I get it?" She raised the gun to Douglas.
"All right, I'll tell you. I put it in Alice In Wonderland on the bookshelf, bottom shelf next to the sofa."
Cassandra left hurriedly.
Douglas spoke as soon as we heard the front door shut. "Misty, is that true?"
I nodded, but that made my heart hurt and my vision cloud even more. "Yes. I couldn't have her shooting you, Douglas, and really, who cares if she rejuvenates. Do you think she'll let us go?"
"I'm not too sure what she'll do."
"Can you try to get out of the ropes? Just in case?"
"I've been doing my best."
Cassandra was back fairly soon, waving the page triumphantly. Luckily the gun was not in sight. She ran over to Douglas and untied him. In my groggy state it took me a while to realize that something was wrong with this picture.
It got worse. It seemed as if Douglas and Cassandra then kissed passionately. I found the sight disgusting, but then I wasn't sure if they actually had kissed. I kept slipping in and out of consciousness so wasn't sure what was real and what was a dream.
I was still too drugged to be fully in my senses, but the fog was lifting, if only slightly. I just lay there and tried to figure things out.
Douglas was speaking. "Cassandra, you didn't need to drug her. She would have told me where the page was, and there would have been no need for all this."
"I doubt it. I know you think you're quite the ladies' man, but there was that interfering fool Jamie Smith. Besides, I couldn't wait another few days. I'm sick of looking like this." Cassandra gestured to herself. "Now that I have the page, I can go back home. I've been living in this dump for too long."
At that point it dawned on me that Cassandra was not Aunt Beth's long-term next door neighbor after all, and wondered what had happened to the actual neighbor. I could guess. The situation was rapidly looking worse.
Cassandra was still speaking. "And now we have to get rid of her."
I spoke up. "Cassandra, I won't tell anyone - I mean, like you said, the police would have me locked up if I said that you could get younger; they would never believe me. You and your boyfriend take off, and I won't say a word."
"Boyfriend?" Cassandra laughed, a horrible, nasal laugh tinged with madness.
Douglas walked over and stood in front of me. "She's right, Cassandra. The police will never believe her. We can just leave her here."
"No, she knows too much. She's seen the page; she knows about the keys. Sure the police won't believe her, but she knows too much about what happened to her aunt. This evening I found that someone - obviously Misty, the interfering fool - had forced a window, and the selenium bottle had been moved from its place. She knows too much," she said yet again. "We can't risk it."
I was waiting for Douglas to argue, but he didn't speak. Finally he turned and looked at me and shrugged. "Sorry, Misty, she has a point. Nothing personal."
Cassandra put her hand on his arm. "Not here, Douglas. There will be too many questions. We can't draw attention to ourselves. I'll make a call and have them take her to London near a club. They'll fix it."
While Cassandra was making the call, Douglas untied me from the bedposts and threw me over his shoulder. I was too weak and sick to struggle but did the best I could. We were at the bottom of the stairs when Jamie burst through the door. Douglas threw me over his shoulder at Jamie and knocked him down. Despite being under my full weight and me being too feeble to help, Jamie rolled me off him quite fast. I looked up to the top of the stairs, half expecting to be looking down the barrel of a gun, but there was no sign of Douglas or Cassandra.
As Jamie was scrabbling to his feet I warned him, "Gun, Jamie, Cassandra has a gun."
Jamie hesitated for moment. "I'd better not leave you here and go after them, then." He dropped to one knee, concern all over his face. "Are you okay?"
"She drugged me and tied me up. They were going to kill me." To my extreme embarrassment I burst out crying, not just polite weeping bu
t loud racking sobs. Jamie at once picked me up and took me to his car, and then he stood outside the car and made a call.
"I don't want to go to hospital!" I said as soon as he got into the car. I've had a fear of hospitals since I was a child.
"Don't worry; I'm taking you home and calling the doctor."
"No, I don't want a doctor!" I was afraid of doctors, too.
Jamie turned to me and smiled. "I don't like doctors either, but you'll like her. She's a nice, elderly lady with a great sense of humor."
"Like Cassandra?" I said sarcastically. I thought about Cassandra. I had thought her a nice old lady and a friend. I had thought Douglas a friend too.
Jamie called the doctor while I tried to process the night's events. It was all too much, and I had a nasty headache. I closed my eyes and tried to ignore the pounding in my head. "How did I near where I was?"
"How did you near?" He sounded puzzled.
I shook my head carefully and tried to find the right words. "No, I mean, how did you hear where I was? In Cassandra's house?"
When he didn’t answer for moment, I looked across at him. "Oh, you have Cassandra's house bugged?"
"Something like that." Jamie looked straight ahead, at the road.
Jamie drove out on the M40 and headed in the direction of London, as far as I could tell. I wondered where Jamie lived, and that jolted my memory. "Jamie! I know where Douglas lives."
"So do I, Misty, but nothing can be done. We can hardly go to the police and say that Douglas and Cassandra stole Paul Whitehead's urn and heart casket in 1839, and that now they have a page with alchemical symbols on it that allows people to restore their youth, and that they attempted to murder you as a result."
That made sense, even in my drugged up state. "Wasn't it 1829? I remember the year."
"No, you'll find the year 1829 all over the net, along with the story that his heart was stolen by an Australian soldier, but if you go to libraries - actual libraries with actual books - you will find old books which say that two people stole the lead heart casket in 1839. Of course, those old books assume the people were looking for silver, but it was the Black Lodge looking for the symbols."