by Harper Lin
Un-fur-tunate Murders
A Wonder Cats Mystery Book 6
Harper Lin
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
UN-FUR-TUNATE MURDERS Copyright © 2017 by Harper Lin.
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the author.
www.harperlin.com
Contents
1. Two Bright Dots
2. County Line Road 63
3. Psychic Assistance
4. Pectus Adsecula
5. Evergrave Creek
6. Suicide Bridge
7. Archibald K. Jones
8. Lunatic Farmers
9. Speak of the Devil
10. Paranormal Catastrophe
11. Libre Monstrum
12. Otto Clare
13. Atropa Belladonna
14. Rotmirage
15. Enzo
16. Help
17. Not the First
18. Some Creatures Have No Decency
19. Out of the Ordinary
20. Abusing Magic
21. The One
All books by Harper Lin
A Note From Harper
About the Author
Excerpt from “Fur-miliar Felines”
Two Bright Dots
“I love thunderstorms,” I mused as I stared out the window of the café. “There is something soothing about them. Even with the thunder and the lightning. If it could rain every day, all day, I wouldn’t mind at all.”
The sky had started to gray over almost immediately after the sun rose. By noon, it was the color of a tombstone. By three o’clock, there were little drops darkening the sidewalk. But now, at seven in the evening, our town of Wonder Falls was going through a thorough cleansing.
Since the Brew-Ha-Ha Café was my home away from home, and the owner was my aunt Astrid, and my coworker was my cousin and best bud Bea, I could have stood in the window all night, listening to the thunder and pounding drops of rain.
“Rain makes me sleepy,” Aunt Astrid stated just before a yawn stretched her mouth wide open. She lazily shuffled her tarot cards like a blackjack dealer in Las Vegas. “This is good sleeping weather.”
“What?” Bea interrupted as she nervously folded napkins and plastic utensils together in preparation for tomorrow’s morning rush. “This is ‘run home and get the flashlights, the shortwave radio, and bottled water ready in case the power goes out’ weather. That’s what this is.”
“Are you kidding?” I looked at my cousin as if she had just started to speak fluent Swahili. “I’ve seen you eat kale. Raw. There is nothing more terrifying than that. But a little thunder and lightning makes you nervous.”
Bea stuck her tongue out at me.
“This is slow, slow, slow.” Aunt Astrid made a fan out of her cards then slapped them all back into a brick. “We haven’t had this slow a night in a long time.”
The rain was really coming down now in sheets. I walked over to the light switch and lowered the dimmer just a little so it was still obvious we were open, but it threw a warm glow out the windows at the storm clouds. The candles on the tables flickered happily and, although I hated to admit it, made the whole place look terribly romantic.
The smell of coffee still lingered, as we had made fresh pots of both regular and decaf as well as hot water for tea. There were bound to be one or two stragglers who didn’t pay attention to the forecast, right? The evening’s desserts, including a triple-layer chocolate cake and a fabulous apple pie, were tempting me from the display case.
“Those desserts aren’t going to keep until tomorrow.” I let my eyes bounce quickly from Aunt Astrid to Bea then immediately to the chocolate cake. “I’ll share a slice with you.”
“Deal.” Bea pulled out a dainty little saucer with blue flowers around the rim and two forks.
“How’s this?” I measured a slice about two inches thick. Bea looked at her mother, who was paying no attention to us, and then quickly nodded. With a smile and my tongue already licking the corners of my mouth, I cut a huge wedge of cake, took a plate, slapped it on there, and quickly closed the dessert case.
With a fork, I gouged myself a mouthful, shoveling it in as if I hadn’t eaten for a week.
“I don’t know what you did with this one, Bea, but it is the best chocolate cake I’ve ever tasted in my life,” I mumbled, careful not to let a single crumb fall from my mouth.
“Talk to Kevin. He suggested adding this fancy cocoa he found in Germany. It costs a little more, but I think he only added an extra teaspoon, and it has made all the difference.” Bea took a giant bite.
“Well, I will tell him tomorrow.”
Kevin was our baker. He had been with us since we rebuilt the cafe after the fire, and although he was a man of few words, his baking was a feast for every one of the senses.
Kevin had probably made it safely home before all the rain started. As usual, he left the door open and the back screen closed, helping to cool off the kitchen and get fresh air throughout the place. It also allowed for a special visitor to come and go as he liked.
“Meow.”
“Treacle!” I turned and saw my beautiful black feline companion looking ten pounds lighter, with his fur sticking tightly to his body. He was soaked to the skin.
“What have you been doing out in that mess?” I asked him telepathically.
I set my fork down and grabbed a towel to wrap around him. Vigorously, I rubbed him behind the ears, making his purr machine kick in. “I thought cats hated getting wet.”
“We do.”
He pulled off the towel and shook, sending tiny droplets all over the floor and me. I continued to rub his fur until he was a good bit dryer. Then, scooping him in my arms, I placed him on the window ledge. Without concern, he began to groom himself.
“Is there anything going on out there that I should know about?” My question made Treacle snap an ear in my direction.
“There is a lot of electricity in the air. I thought I could smell something coming but couldn’t be sure,” he replied without looking at me.
“Something good or something bad?”
Treacle looked up and narrowed his jade eyes at me.
“I don’t know.”
I scratched his back. With each stroke, I received an affectionate head-butt. When I turned to go back to my cake, all I saw was an empty plate and Bea licking her fork.
“Hey!” I stomped over to my cousin with my hands on my hips. “You greedy hog. Cut me another piece.”
“If I do that, we won’t have enough to give to the guys working the late shift at the police station.” Bea giggled.
“You wolfed that down like a pug does a slice of bacon. You should really be ashamed of yourself,” I teased. “And don’t tell me you’re giving that to the cops. Just because your husband’s working tonight doesn’t mean you can steal that cake out of my mouth and give it to him. Give him the kale.”
Bea’s shoulders were shaking uncontrollably as she tried not to laugh out loud.
“Aunt Astrid didn’t raise you to be such a miser,” I kept rambling, the decadent taste of the chocolate cake slowly disintegrating in my mouth. I looked out the window. “I don’t know how you’ll get to sleep tonight, knowing this is how you treat your cousin.”
“I’ll manage.” Bea chuckled. “I think I better start wrappin
g this stuff up for Jake and the guys at the station.”
I clicked my tongue and shook my head. Bea’s husband, Jake, was a detective at the Wonder Falls Police Station. When there were leftovers from the café, we boxed them up, and Bea made a special delivery to the guys. It was also an excuse for her and Jake to gaze into each other’s eyes and play kissy face for a little while. They were still so in love it was almost sickening.
Going back to the window, I looked out and watched the blinking lightning in the distance.
“I think it’s supposed to continue raining all night. Maybe not this hard, but we’re supposed to have another gray day tomorrow.” I rocked on my heels. I wasn’t sure what it was about this kind of weather, but I always liked gloomy days. “We probably won’t have too many customers tomorrow, either.” I shrugged and looked at Treacle, who had stretched out. The tip of his tail was the only part moving.
“That will be too bad,” Bea replied. “Kevin and I had planned for a fantastic melted-brie and kale sandwich with a touch of sliced apple and some special seasoning we concocted together that we both agreed would be delicious on soft homemade French bread.”
“Kale again?” I said, wrinkling my nose.
“Would you rather I use spinach?” she asked thoughtfully.
“I’d rather you make cheeseburgers.”
“I don’t think we are going to get any more customers tonight.” Aunt Astrid yawned again. “We might as well close up early.” She pushed herself up from her seat, neatly stacked her tarot cards, and placed them in a beautiful wooden box that she then slipped into a dark-purple velvet drawstring bag. But before she could return them to their special shelf in the back of the café where she normally did her readings, she stopped in her tracks and pointed at the window.
I turned and looked where she was pointing.
They started off as just two bright dots down the street. But coming to us faster than normal, the approaching headlights became bigger and bigger.
Without thinking, I quickly scooped Treacle up in my arms and backed up several paces as Aunt Astrid joined Bea behind the counter. For a second, we all thought the car was going to burst through the storefront windows. But we heard the sound of the brakes. The car jerked as it came to a stop, the wheels screeching and the shocks groaning.
All three of us just stared, our mouths slack and our eyes wide.
Within seconds, the car engine was off, the lights out, and the driver frantically popping out of the driver’s seat, slamming the door shut. With her head down against the pouring rain, she raced to our entrance. The little wind-chime bells went off as she yanked the door open.
County Line Road 63
“Thank God you’re still open!” the woman cried.
“Tamara Watson? Is that you underneath all that wet hair?” Aunt Astrid asked, suddenly alert and wide awake.
I felt Treacle go rigid in my arms. His back began to arch, every hair on his body puffing him out to twice his normal size. His green eyes widened.
“What’s gotten into you?” I asked with my mind.
“She’s sick.” With a gravelly growl, Treacle leapt from my arms and headed out the back door back into the rain without uttering a word. I turned to our new guest.
“Yes.” Tamara pulled her long, black, soaking-wet hair away from her face and tried to smile. “It’s me.”
“My heavens, dear. Are you all right?” Aunt Astrid quickly grabbed a clean white towel from behind the counter and handed it over to the girl.
“Bea, get her a tea,” I suggested as I pulled out a chair for her to sit down. Her entire body looked like a blur. She was trembling, maybe a little from the cold and a little from something else.
Tamara Watson was one of our regular customers. Aunt Astrid consulted the tarot cards for her on a monthly basis, and we also knew her from around town. She was a single girl, working as a secretary of an accounting firm.
None of us had ever seen her in such a state, nor had we ever seen anyone as pale. At least, not someone who still had a pulse.
I looked to Bea, who was busy with her back to us, her arms flying in a graceful display as she reached for her ingredients, ground them together, placed them in a tea steeper, and dropped the steeper into one of our large to-go cups.
While pouring the hot water over the steeper, Bea looked at me and shrugged. I looked from Bea to Tamara and back to Bea again.
“Your tea will be ready in a second, Tamara. Just sit tight.” Bea watched her mom take a seat next to the shaken woman. We all noticed Tamara would not stop looking at the floor.
“Honey,” Aunt Astrid said soothingly as she sat down next to her. “Are you in trouble?”
Call me cynical, but my first thought was she hit someone on the road. A car broke down. The driver got out to walk to a gas station. Visibility was bad, and whammo! She was too shocked, too scared, too freaked out to stop. That was all I could think of that would cause someone to be so terrified. Tamara wasn’t a hit-and-run kind of person. She was a normal person in an abnormal situation. At least that was what I was thinking when she began to speak.
“She came out of nowhere.”
I knew it.
“Who did, honey?” Aunt Astrid said soothingly.
“I was coming down Route 41 on my way to my sister’s house. She lives in Muncee.” Tamara took the towel my aunt had handed her and wiped her face. Some of her makeup smeared. She still looked at the floor.
“She called me on my cell and said that her mother-in-law had just heard on her police scanner that there was an accident on Torrence Avenue. Traffic was all backed up, and nothing was coming or going.”
We all watched her take a deep breath, but her eyes still hadn’t climbed higher than her own feet on the floor.
Bea brought the honey-colored tea over to Tamara and set it on the table. No sooner had she done that than Tamara wrapped her cold hands around the warm cardboard cup.
“I said no big deal. I’d go around. If I overshot to the next exit, I knew there’d be a way to backtrack. It might be a little out of the way, but I was in no hurry. So I went past Torrence and got off at Bourbonnais. I took that down a ways and turned on County Line Road 63.”
She brought the cup to her lips, took a sip, and wrinkled her nose.
“I was the only one out there. At first, I saw the corn rows on each side of me, but they gave way to what looked like forest preserve or just a more wild stretch of land. There were trees and bushes and things on either side of the road. But there was no life but me.”
She swallowed hard.
“I thought it was just on account of the weather being so lousy. That’s what I told myself. Only a lunatic would be out here driving in this weather.” Tamara chuckled bitterly. “But I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was driving in a bubble. Every sound seemed muffled. The lights lit up the road ahead, but I couldn’t help but wonder. What was just ahead of them? What was staying just out of sight? I was alone. I wouldn’t see anyone else, and no one else would see me. But something did see me.”
“Some thing?” I asked.
“There was something on that road.” Tamara took another sip of tea but made a face again as if she had just swallowed vinegar or maybe a spoonful of castor oil. It wasn’t like Bea to screw up one of her concoctions, so when I looked to her, I was surprised to see her studying Tamara’s reactions.
“What did you see out there, honey?” Aunt Astrid asked gently.
Tamara’s chin began to quiver, and she licked her lips nervously.
“At first, I thought it was a white trash bag that had gotten stuck in a tree. It was whipping around in and out of the high beams as I drove closer. Just a sack caught in some branches, I kept thinking. But then I realized it was moving toward me.”
“What was?” I asked.
Tamara took a deep breath, and her eyes filled with tears.
“It wasn’t stuck in branches or bushes. It was on the side of the road, and it was hobbling toward me.�
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“Hobbling?”
Tamara looked right at me as if she were pleading for me to fix it, come up with answers for a question she hadn’t asked yet.
“I don’t know how to describe it,” she whispered as if saying anything too loudly might cause whatever she saw to appear right in the middle of the Brew-Ha-Ha Café. “I think it was a person. Or maybe it was a person at one time. It was in an accident, or it was deformed or something. The shoulders were up so high that it looked like the head was coming from the middle of where the chest would be. The hands and arms were curled over onto themselves like claws, like the front legs of a praying mantis. I thought I saw feet, but something made me think they were…” Her voice trailed off. Squeezing her eyelids together, she obviously didn’t want to say any more.
“Think they were what?” Aunt Astrid’s voice was firm.
“Hooves.” Tamara’s voice was low. “I thought maybe someone was playing a joke. This was a prank or one of those schemes where gangbangers or rapists try to set something up to get a person to stop or get out of their car on a lonely road so they can rob you, or worse.”
I watched as Tamara’s trembling hands made another grab for the tea. To me, it smelled delicious. But Tamara brought it to her nose and, without another sip, placed it at the very opposite edge of the table.
“I didn’t slow down. But I didn’t speed up, either. As I got closer, I saw its head was twisted unnaturally to one side, almost like it was upside down. The chin was pushed into the arched shoulder on the right side. How could a person live like that? How could they stand or walk, let alone stomp after someone in a downpour?”