Un-fur-tunate Murders

by Harper Lin

  “Stay away from the Clares’ property and Evergrave Creek.”

  I was sure Treacle heard me, but he slipped out the door before I had even opened it all the way. After closing the door, I picked up Peanut Butter and held him in my arms.

  “This stuff sounds creepy to me.” He nuzzled against my chest.

  “Me, too. But it gets worse.”

  “What do you mean?” Marshmallow, like her mistress, was a powerful cat, thoughtful and unwilling to take unnecessary risks. She looked at me, her wispy, butterfly-wing-looking ears twitching as she waited for my response.

  “Tom and I went up there. To that old bridge and creek. It wasn’t a smart idea.”

  “What happened?”

  “You’ll hear.”

  “I passed along everything I know about those people.” Tom took a glass bowl of thick yellow pudding from Bea and nodded a thank you.

  “Bring your dessert in the other room with us, Tom.” Jake handed Blake a bowl then jerked his head in the direction of his man cave just past the kitchen.

  Tom smiled, kissed me on the cheek, and headed off like a boy who was just invited to climb the rope ladder up into the best tree house on the block.

  “Finally. Now we can talk,” Aunt Astrid joked. “Tom is a very nice man.”

  “I have to say he is.” I smiled. “In fact, he knows a lot more about me than, well, anyone else but you guys.”

  My aunt and Bea looked at each other then at me and leaned forward on the counter across and next to me as if I were quietly doling out investment advice.

  “But you may not be happy about what we did.”

  I told my family about the date with Tom and where we ended up. By the time I got to us peeling out of the speed-trap hiding place, they were both just sitting there with their mouths open.

  “So. He walked me to the door, and we said good night. And that was it.”

  “Oh, he’s a keeper,” Bea said.

  “I was thinking the exact same thing,” Aunt Astrid said as if she was trying not to burst out in giddy giggles.

  “Don’t you two have anything to say about the hag that came after us? The bridge or the area back there?”

  “We’ll get to that. Right now, we’re talking about your love life, and that’s much more important.” Bea patted my hand. “You know, I didn’t want to say anything, but I sensed he had a gift.”

  “You, too?” Aunt Astrid leaned closer to her daughter. “I didn’t quite see psychic but perhaps a touch of medium in him. Maybe even channeling.”

  “You guys, please?” I was so embarrassed. Here I was, telling them about not just trespassing but trespassing on the haunted or cursed land of some crazies, and they were too busy picking out china patterns for me and what month I should get married. “It was only our second date.”

  “You’re right, honey.” Aunt Astrid put her hands up in front of her as if she were stopping an oncoming train. “We do need to address the concerns at hand. I found something you both might find interesting.”

  My aunt shuffled over to her purse, scratching Marshmallow behind the ears as she did so, and came back to the counter with a piece of paper. When she finally unfolded it, I was surprised it covered almost half the counter like a tablecloth.

  “I had to make photocopies of this at the library and tape them together. But it looks pretty good to me,” Aunt Astrid said while she smoothed out what was an old map of Wonder Falls and the surrounding Wonder Falls unincorporated.

  “This has got to be at least fifty years old. I don’t recognize half these streets.” Bea ran her finger over the wrinkled paper and squinted at the names.

  “This little beauty was tucked away in the local history section of the library,” Aunt Astrid said.

  The map my aunt spread out in front of us was from, in fact, almost seventy-five years ago. It showed all of Wonder Falls Proper as well as the unincorporated sections, neighboring townships, and even some small patches of uncharted acreage.

  “Funny that Archie Jones’s property didn’t just border the huge mass of land the Clares own, but it was encircled by it.” She pointed to the small area on the map that we had visited in person the other day. “Why would a farmer buy that many acres but have a tiny section they technically didn’t pay for? It makes no sense unless that land isn’t there.”

  “Your mom has been hitting the bottle again, hasn’t she?” I leaned over toward Bea, shaking my head in disgust.

  “No. Smoking funny cigarettes,” Bea joked. “Mom. How can that be? You were there. You and Cath. And Cath and her knight in shining armor were just there. And the police found Archie’s body, so they were there. There is land there.”

  “There is the illusion of land there. Girls...” Aunt Astrid’s face became grave, and the wrinkles around her mouth and eyes became like dark cuts in her skin. “Something is hiding there. Something that isn’t afraid, because its caretakers allow it.”

  “So you’re saying the Clares are keeping some kind of paranormal pet?” I had forgotten about my banana pudding and quickly began to devour the tasty dessert.

  “Well, a pet can be controlled. I am thinking that it might be the other way around. The Clares are kept by this being.” My aunt shook her head as she went back to her purse on the couch and returned with one of her books.

  “Libre Monstrum.” She handed the book to Bea. “The Book of Monsters. It’s an older edition and doesn’t have everything. But it might have what we are looking for.”

  Bea opened it to a page with a horrific ink drawing of a catlike creature eating the eyes of what looked like a corpse.

  “Really?” I said and set the remaining bit of pudding down on the counter. My stomach didn’t want any more. “What is that?”

  “A Feline Eye Eater. See also Canine Eye Eater,” Bea read aloud. Hand that girl a book, and she was instantly transported back to school, devouring page after page of information and ready to take a quiz designed to stump Einstein. If there were any kind of answer between the pages of this hardcover, Bea would find it and become an expert at paranormal monsters in the process.

  “Now, we had an encounter with a soul parasite. They are in there. Cath, maybe you’ll see something about that hag in there.”

  “Do I really have to look through all the pictures?” I cringed at the thought.

  “I’ll look for anything that fits your description and show you,” Bea offered. “That way you don’t have to see everything. I’ll weed out the gross stuff.”

  “Thanks, Bea. That’ll work.”

  But before we could get too far into the project at hand, the Three Musketeers came waltzing back into the kitchen.

  “Bea, taste this stuff.” Jake smiled, handing her an almost empty bottle of Green River. Tom smiled as he watched. “You were a kid once. This will send you all the way back there.”

  Bea quickly picked up the book and tucked it underneath the counter next to 101 Vegan Recipes and Eat Healthy, Eat Vegetarian. She may have been a vegan and helped all of us eat a little healthier, but one thing she wasn’t was rude. She took the bottle, gave the opening a quick sniff, and without hesitation tipped the end up, getting a healthy gulp of the green liquid in her mouth. After swallowing, she licked her lips.

  “That tastes like those baby suckers we used to get as kids with the loop for the stick.” She smiled as the taste brought back memories of the two of us as little girls.

  “We used to get those from the drug store for a couple pennies,” I remembered. I’d drunk Green River on occasion. It seemed to be the perfect accompaniment for a cheeseburger with everything. My stomach growled even though I just ate.

  “Well, I hate to break up the party, but Blake and I have to get back to the station.” Jake kissed Bea on the cheek and mussed my hair as if I were a kid. “Looks like there has been a next of kin located for Mr. Archie Jones. We need to ask them some questions and go through all the formalities. But they are hailing from South Carolina. I doubt we are going to come
up with anything helpful.”

  Blake turned to Tom, and I saw him extend his hand. The two men shook hands, exchanging a few pleasantries as Tom smiled broadly and Blake looked serious and straight and uptight like usual.

  “Bea, the meal was delicious.” Blake waved as he backed toward the door. “Aunt Astrid, Cath, it’s always nice to see you.” He said those last words looking at me, but I didn’t think it meant anything. Right?

  “Just wait one second, Blake. My holster is upstairs.” Jake turned. Across from the kitchen in the small hallway between the family room and the kitchen was a flight of stairs that led to the three bedrooms on the second floor. Jake disappeared up the steps, followed by an excited Peanut Butter, leaving Blake standing there waiting.

  “Bea, I’ll have to be leaving soon, too. I’ve got the eleven-to-seven shift for the next three nights. A little bit of overtime comes in handy,” Tom said, and he was looking at me. “But can you point me to the bathroom?”

  “Sure, just follow me,” Bea said, leading him around the foyer to the guest powder room.

  Aunt Astrid turned and lazily began to stroke Marshmallow, and I was left to make things comfortable for the guy who went to great lengths to do the opposite for me.

  “How are you and Darla doing?” I asked before I could stop myself. Did I even want to know? No. I didn’t want to know anything about him or the woman who took every chance to make my high school career a hell on earth. She had opted to continue that route in adulthood as well.

  “We decided to part ways.” Blake rocked back on his heels. I couldn’t tell if he was sad or happy or indifferent. All of his expressions seemed the same.

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” NOT! “You guys looked happy.”

  Yes, my heart felt a twinge of satisfaction. I knew it was childish, but I didn’t care. Wasn’t it interesting that when Tom and I started seeing each other, suddenly Blake and Darla weren’t seen hanging on each other around town? Okay, to be fair, Blake never hung on Darla, but she sure as anything hung on him like a tacky, moth-ridden, cheap coat.

  “She’s a lovely girl. Just not what I’m looking for.”

  “Oh” was all I could say as I looked at his face. There was something there. I wasn’t just saying it, letting my ego go wild with delight over his breakup. For a split second, it looked as though he was about to say something, but my aunt Astrid interrupted. I had forgotten she was there.

  “Detective, please join us again next week for dinner. We just love having you,” she cooed. I turned and looked at her with raised eyebrows. “Don’t we, Cath.”

  My sarcastic side wanted to jump right out and give Blake a verbal slap that knocked him to the ground. But before that clever retort could fully form in my head, I uttered this instead...

  “Yes. We do love having you.”

  It wasn’t a lie. Sure, things didn’t work out between us. Just because Darla wasn’t what he was looking for didn’t mean I was. He couldn’t accept my being a witch. It frightened him, even if somewhere deep down he was attracted to me.

  At that moment, Tom appeared from around the corner with that fantastic smile and wearing those jeans.

  Marshmallow stood from her perch on the sofa by Aunt Astrid and quickly ascended the arm of the chair and higher up to the back, meowing in Tom’s direction. As if he understood every syllable, he walked over and began to scratch the feline affectionately under the chin.

  “You’re like catnip,” I teased. “You should see Treacle come running from three blocks away to rub on him.”

  “I like animals,” he said, leaning down to look in Marshmallow’s face and receive a head-butt of approval. “But I do have to go. Mind walking me to my truck?” He looked at me and gave me a wink.

  He reached for my hand, and I took his, still feeling a little weird about the affectionate gestures but getting more and more used to them.

  “Be careful out there, Blake,” I said as I walked past him.

  “You, too,” he mumbled.

  Once outside, I quickly pulled my hand away and folded my arms in front of me.

  “My gosh, it sure did get cold.” I shivered. “I thought I’d just need a sweater. Looks like I’ll be running home tonight. It’s too cold to walk.”

  “I have something for you,” Tom said, hurrying to his truck and opening the driver’s-side door. “I saw it the other day at a little antique shop not far from my place. It reminded me of you.”

  Tom handed me a small white box about the size of a silver dollar. When I opened it up, I found a brooch. A black-and-gold Art Deco–style frame around a bright-green emerald cut piece of glass. It was dazzling.

  “See?” He took it out of the box. “It’s a green stone. Get it?”

  I nodded but didn’t find any words forming in there.

  “Do you like it?”

  “I love it. It’s the most beautiful thing anyone’s ever given to me.”

  I guessed Tom didn’t have any more words forming in his head either, because he didn’t say anything else. Instead, he just took a step toward me, slipped his arms around my waist, and kissed me. I no longer felt the cold.

  Otto Clare

  After dinner at Bea’s, I was feeling wonderful even though by the time I left, we hadn’t identified what it was lurking in the Clare property that scared the dickens out of me. Bea had yet to spot a milky-eyed hag in Aunt Astrid’s book. Despite Aunt Astrid suggesting the property Tom and I trespassed on may not even really be there, I still had a spring in my step.

  Yes, I will admit that the juvenile part of me that sometimes reared its ugly head was making a brief appearance and gloating over the breakup between Blake and Darla. But I couldn’t be sure it was all Blake’s idea. Perhaps he wanted to stay with Darla, and she, being the selfish creature that she was, didn’t think he was good enough for her. That would be just like Darla. If that was the case, it was best Blake find out for himself. He never would have believed me had I been the one to tell him.

  However, if he broke up with her, that would satisfy my desire for revenge on her. It was certainly better than the hex of incurable scalp pimples I wanted to put on her. But my aunt would know it was me who did it and put a binding spell on me until death.

  The real reason for my happiness was the brooch Tom gave me. After I got home that night, I tore into my closet, looking for something to wear with it, and realized I had nothing.

  Such a special object deserved a special getup, so for the first time in several months, I decided to head to the fashion strip of Wonder Falls.

  About twenty miles from the Brew-Ha-Ha was an area of town that was loaded with not just regular shops like Macy’s and Bloomingdale’s but also high-end consignment shops, vintage thrift stores, and good, old-fashioned secondhand stores. I was determined to find something beautiful to wear with this brooch.

  It looked great on my pea coat, but I wanted something else. The stone in the middle was at least an inch wide and glowed a luxurious forest green that reminded me of the flowing velvet gown Scarlett O’Hara made from her mother’s curtains.

  So in order to find something as unique as the pin, I stopped in the consignment store first. It was as if the planets had aligned especially for me and said, “Cath is going shopping. Make sure she gets exactly what she wants.”

  Right there, at the front of the Busy Bee Consignment shop, was a luxurious, baggy, green crumpled-velvet sweater with small cuffs and a drop waist. It was fantastic. I envisioned myself strolling into the Brew-Ha-Ha in this sweater and black slacks, or dare I look to my left and purchase the stylish yet over-the-top leather pencil skirt on display?

  It wasn’t surprising that I spent over an hour picking through every display and rack in the shop, gasping over the beautifully impractical clothes and debating if it really was necessary to own a pair of leopard-print stiletto heels and matching sixties-style hot pants. I needed to wear something to the grocery store, right?

  But I kept my head about me and bought just
the sweater. It was enough. It was beautiful. And when I got in my car and took the brooch off my coat and put it against the fabric of the sweater, I gasped. It looked just as I’d hoped. It was romantic and stylish and glamorous. There wasn’t much need for this kind of decadence in my life. I had simple tastes, and although I preferred my vintage cardigans and Converse All-Star gym shoes, this was different. This was my way of showing Tom how much I appreciated his gift. I wanted to feel as beautiful as this antique pin was, as beautiful as the gesture to buy it for me was, and as beautiful as Tom was.

  When I started my car and got back on the expressway to head home, you can imagine how I was knocked off guard seeing an all-too-familiar truck barreling down on me from at least nine or ten car lengths back.

  For a minute, I thought I was seeing things. But as I tried to watch in the rearview mirror and keep my eyes on the road in front of me, I saw the beat-up black truck weaving from lane to lane, passing cars and honking the horn.

  Bracing for an epic episode of road rage, I gripped the steering wheel tightly as the truck maneuvered itself alongside of me.

  Looking to my right, I saw the driver was not the younger, bald Clare who chased my aunt and me off his property but rather the creepy older gentleman who ordered us to leave.

  He paid no attention to me, and instead of running me off the road as I had envisioned, he swerved ahead of me, around a Cadillac, nearly cut off a Honda, and left a Chevy Bolt in the dust. That wasn’t really hard to do.

  Without thinking, I hit the accelerator and gave chase.

  Now, I knew there was proper protocol for tailing a car. I’d seen enough Humphrey Bogart and James Cagney movies to get the general gist of the method. But putting one or two cars in between us was hard. So I threw caution to the wind and got behind the truck, keeping a safe distance of two car lengths between us.

  I began to wonder where he was coming from. It wasn’t the fashion strip. I was pretty sure of that. There was nothing in the bed of his truck. The dirt and grime was crusted and dry, so I didn’t think he was mudding or doing anything recreational like that.