The Squeaky Clean Skeleton

by R A Muth

  Ivy released my hand, and I wrestled the other free from Pierce’s grip. Patting him on the shoulder, I leaned in close. “It will be okay, Pierce.”

  The clouds opened and rain began to pour. Grabbing my iPad, I slid it into an inside pocket on the jacket.

  “I’m going to the house where it’s safe,” Marci called, running in that direction and beckoning to us.

  “Marci, don’t! It’s still a crime scene!” I yelled, but her figure grew smaller by the second as she fled the beach. No matter that my best friend had also gone to the house intending to violate the crime scene tape, and that Rune may be there, too.

  As Asher pushed his chair away, he accidentally knocked into the table, tipping it and lifting one end into the air. All four legs hit the ground, jarring the candles and bottle onto their sides. I took a step toward the house but saw the bottle rolling toward the edge of the table.

  Chapter 29

  For the third time in as many days at the Livingston mansion, I reached out and caught the bottle, saving it from a disastrous end. The first two times my hands reached for the bottle, it was sheer instinct. Now I had a reason to keep it safe. What would happen to Rune if it broke?

  Now wasn’t the time to ponder that thought, much less experiment to find answers. I slipped the bottle into the jacket’s inner pocket on the opposite side and made my way across the rocky beach, my ballet flats sliding on the wet stones as tiny hailstones began pelting me.

  Instead of following Marci, the other four séance attendees trudged uphill toward the parking area, their shoes sliding on the wet ground. Royce and Pierce reached their car first and drove off within seconds of starting the engine. Asher and Thom reached their vehicles next, and soon their headlights also cut through the darkness before disappearing altogether as they drove away from the property. Ivy reached her car last, and she sat inside with the lights on for a minute before leaving.

  I was alone, soaking wet and freezing. Someone could have walked with me to the house. I had no idea where my cat was, not to mention my best friend. I cast a final glare at the parking area before trudging toward the house. I prepared to call out to Rune until Hazel’s voice carried in from where she parked the van.

  “Come on, Tori! I’ve got your cat! Let’s go!”

  Thank God. Relief washed through me at realizing Rune was safe, and I willed my legs to move faster, my breath coming out in short puffs as my ballet flats struggled to find traction. By the time I opened the passenger door of the van and slid into the heated seat, icy rainwater dripped from my curls onto the jacket’s chunky shoulder pads.

  Rune jumped into my lap and cuddled against me. Grateful for his warmth, I stroked his back with my palm. “Hey, fella. You have no idea how glad I am to see you. Are you okay?” His purr was all the answer I needed for now. We could discuss everything later, at home, when we were safe, warm, dry, and alone so he could be his human self again.

  Hazel turned the van around and directed it toward town. “What happened out there?”

  “It was pretty wild.” I gave my friend a brief overview of the events which transpired while she was busy poking around the house.

  “Don’t tell me you summoned a real spirit?”

  “No, but Mother Nature sure made it seem that way.”

  Hazel sighed. ‘Or maybe it was God telling us to mind our own business, stop dabbling with the occult, and stick to our day jobs?”

  “It’s anyone’s guess, but, at this point, I’m ready to go home.” I resumed stroking my hand along Rune’s back and let myself get lost in my thoughts again.

  By the time Hazel pulled her minivan into my driveway a few minutes later, the earlier downpour was a gentle pitter-patter on the vehicle’s roof. She killed the engine, and we made a run for the front door to avoid becoming any more soaked than we already were.

  “That was crazy! Make yourself at home. Towels are in the hall closet if you need them. If you’re hungry, we can order in again. I’m going to change into dry clothes,” I put Rune on the kitchen floor and jogged through the house to my bedroom.

  When I returned to the kitchen, I clapped my hands at seeing two mugs filled with steaming-hot lattes. Hazel stood at the counter. A damp towel wrapped around her head to keep her wet hair from dripipng.

  “Thank you so much!”

  “You looked pretty miserable when we were leaving the mansion.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. Where are my manners? Would you like to use the hairdryer? Need a dry t-shirt?”

  “Nope. If I needed anything, I would have asked for it. Go on, drink your latte before it gets cold.”

  “Is it caramel?”

  “Of course! Listen, I’m so wicked sorry I volunteered us to help Marci.”

  Taking a sip from my mug, I held the liquid in my mouth for an extra few seconds to savor the caffeinated goodness before swallowing. “It’s no worse than the time I volunteered us to wear blueberry costumes and hold the banner at the start of the Blueberry Bay Days parade.”

  Hazel laughed mid-sip, the unexpected bit of mirth causing her to snort a little bit of the latte out of her left nostril. Grabbing a napkin, she wiped it across the bottom of her nose and shivered. “Yes, this has without question evened the score.”

  I didn’t remind her about the photos of us, which still appeared on the Reel Life app each year when the #blueberrybayfest hashtag returned to life.

  Hazel’s phone chirped to life. She looked at the screen and scrunched her face. “It’s an unknown number. Do you mind if I put it on speaker?”

  “Go ahead,” I nodded.

  She tapped and swiped the screen before laying the phone face-up on the table. “Hello?”

  “Did you and Tori get home?” A hushed voice came through the phone.

  “Pardon? Who is this?” Hazel asked.

  The voice answered, “It’s Marci.”

  The sound of a crash came through the phone, and Hazel asked, “Marci? Where are you? Are you okay?”

  “Stop!” A male voice came through the phone. “This is a crime scene, and you’re trespassing! You have the right to remain silent. You have the right--oh! No, you don’t. Give me that phone!”

  “Hazel? Tori? If you can hear this, please, find out what happened to Aunt Christine if it’s the last thing you do! My future depends on it!”

  Before we could ask Marci what she was talking about, the call dropped.

  "Whoa. Do you think Marci is okay?" I couldn't imagine where Marci might be, or what put her in such a state. Even if I could picture it, I didn't want to let my mind to go there. I would have preferred to be selfish, drink my latte, and gossip with my best friend.

  "I'm not sure. And who was that guy? Was it Gavin?"

  "It didn't sound like Gavin. Could it have been that new guy?"

  "Davis Sterling?"

  "Yeah. I didn't talk to Davis long enough to recognize his voice, though."

  "The voice was so muffled. It's like whoever it was, was a good distance away from Marci. What if it wasn't a policeman at all?"

  "If it wasn't a policeman, then who could it be?"

  Chapter 30

  Hazel started to reply, but her phone came to life again. This time it played the chorus of the old Anne Murray song, Could I Have This Dance. It's what she and Sven chose to play during their first dance at their wedding reception. The song was a timeless, sentimental choice, unlike Duffy's surprise selection at our wedding reception, which was The Macarena. He didn't warn me because he planned it to be a surprise. Calling it a surprise was a gross understatement.

  "Oops. I forgot to call the hubby to tell him we're okay." Swiping her finger across the screen, Hazel lifted the phone to her ear. "Sven, I am so sorry, but a regular deluge came in off the cove and soaked us to the bone. I'm at Tori's house, drying out."

  I politely tuned out the mhmms, uh-huhs, and other bits of conversation, at least until I heard her mention Marci's name.

  "Oh, Sven baby, that would be wicked awesome! I
'll leave here now and come straight there." Hazel made what seemed like a gazillion kissy noises into the phone before tapping the screen to end the call. "Tori, Sven has offered to go to the police station with me to see if Marci is okay. Will you be okay here?"

  "Sure, I will. Why wouldn't I be? I have Rune." The cat rubbed against my lower calf, and I reached to pet the top of its head.

  "Haha, that's so cute. If it turns out that you do need anything, promise you'll call?"

  I promised, and she insisted I promise a second time before exiting through the kitchen door. I did, but envy edged its way into the corners of my thoughts despite my attempts to push them away. What would it be like to have a husband who cared more about me than he cared about getting his ego stroked? Was it too much to ask to share a life with someone warm, loyal, and willing to uphold the vows of marriage? Someone who would recognize when I wasn't myself and ask me if everything was okay?

  "Are ye okay, lass?"

  Rune's voice startled me, and I jumped in my seat. I grabbed the edge of the table to keep from toppling out of the chair. "I may never get used to you doing that."

  "Steady now." He put his hands on my shoulders until I brushed them away.

  My heart raced from a combination of the surprise and his proximity. Rune's looks were beyond attractive, but was I attracted to him? The increase in my pulse gave me an answer I wasn't ready to face.

  "Thanks. I'm okay," I said at last.

  Rune walked around the table to face me and tilted his head. "If ye'll pardon my saying so, ye do not seem okay, lass. Would ye like me to prepare a meal on the cooker?"

  The question brought a smile to my face. My supernatural guest had gone from feline to foodie overnight, and I couldn't be more pleased. "No, Rune. You sit. I can warm the leftover Chinese food from last night while we discuss what happened at the séance."

  "Aye. I ran off on ye."

  I stood and crossed the kitchen to pull the takeout containers of leftover Chinese food from the refrigerator before reheating them in the microwave. "Yeah, why did you leave? That was unexpected."

  “’Twas the storm, lass. I never had such a fright. ‘Twas jes terrifying.” Rune shuddered. "It baffles me. I never was afraid of storms before — quite the contrary. I find them a right good thrill."

  "It's not unusual for animals to be afraid of storms, though. Maybe you were a little too in touch with your inner kitty?"

  "Mayhaps. It would not be the first weird thing to happen since the gingernut cursed me. Then again, this is the first time I've been out of the bottle."

  Quiet filled the room as I finished warming leftovers from the previous night's dinner and arranged the boxes on the table. Rune and I maintained our silence as we dug into the food, his skill with the chopsticks showing marked improvement from the previous night.

  "Did you happen to recognize anyone who was at the séance? Anyone who may have been in Mrs. Livington's house while she was still living?"

  "I did not."

  "So, it must have been someone who wasn't there." I picked at the food on my plate and chose a piece of cashew chicken.

  Quiet stretched between us until Rune urged, "A Saint Patrick ha'penny for yer thoughts, lass."

  "There's a detail about Mrs. Livingston's murder that I'm missing. I know there is. Something connects it to, well, something else, but so much has happened since yesterday morning, I can't put my finger on it. Going back to the house isn't an option because the police have marked it as a crime scene, and the last thing Gavin needs is an excuse to put handcuffs on me."

  Rune gulped a mouthful of sweet and sour chicken before using his chopsticks to snag a piece of orange beef. "Tis a shame ye do not have a photograph," he said before devouring the morsel.

  "Rune, you're a genius!!"

  "Am I now?" He speared a piece of sweet and sour chicken with one chopstick and popped the morsel into his mouth without a drop of sauce hitting his pristine white shirt.

  There was no time to envy his luck, however. Dropping my chopsticks on my plate, I left the table long enough to grab my laptop and set it on the table as I reclaimed my seat. "All the pictures I take on my phone upload right to the cloud at the same time."

  "Eh?" Rune raised an eyebrow. "I'm not certain how the clouds in the sky relate to yer photographs, lass."

  "Not clouds in the sky, silly. Cloud storage." At his blank expression, I went on, "Okay, well, I guess you aren't familiar with the term. Never mind. The photos I took on my phone get zapped into my laptop."

  "Like magic?"

  "Yes, let's go with that. Only this magic is called technology." Agreeing was quicker than trying to find terms Rune would understand, and I could always offer him a more detailed explanation later. "Let's go through the photos I took yesterday."

  Rune slid into the chair next to me. He reached across the table and dragged his plate until it was right in front of him. We continued eating as I opened my cloud storage app and opened the folder labeled with the current month and year.

  Seeing the photos on my laptop made it easier to spot small details. Not only was I in the comfort of my own home while dressed in a slouchy shirt and yoga pants, but I could zoom in on small areas to catch details I might have missed in person.

  I scrolled through the photos with the tip of my left index finger while using the chopsticks in my right hand to continue eating. Stuffing my face while sleuthing was becoming a habit, but having Rune doing the same thing next to me helped erase any guilt I might have had.

  "Wait. Look at that!" I put the tips of my thumb and index finger against the screen and stretched the photo.

  Chapter 31

  "Away with ye. Might I try?" Without waiting for an answer, Rune reached forward and mimicked my movements to zoom in on the photo. "And how do ye make it wee again?"

  Returning the tips of my thumb and index finger to the screen, I drew them close in a pinching motion to zoom out again. "Easy peasy."

  "Go on out of that. Aul man and aul wan would never believe such a thing is possible."

  Probably because these things weren't possible in their time, I thought. As the silence grew, I could only wonder what other ideas were going through Rune’s head.

  Before I could ask, he said, "Well, show me what ye've discovered."

  "Look here. There's a plastic jug in Mrs. Livingston's bedroom. It matches the ones in the storage sheds at the brewery on the first day." I put the two photos side-by-side and pointed out my discovery. Although the shape and the color of the plastic jugs matched, the labels were far too blurry to make out the logo or other text.

  Rune clapped me on the shoulder with his free hand. "Fair play! What will ye do now? Call the shades?"

  "We probably need more evidence than this to prove any connection, but we're definitely on the right track. I'd email these to Hazel to get her opinion, but it's late. She keeps the alerts on her devices set at full volume all the time, and I'd rather not risk waking her. This news can hold until tomorrow."

  Rune's nose scrunched, and his lower jaw hung open. "Email? Alerts? Devices? Ye speak a foreign tongue, lass."

  "Email is a kind of message which I type into my laptop, and the computer sends it to her computer."

  "Like wee pigeons?"

  "Sort of, but we can also use our phones or tablets. If I was feeling wicked lazy while lying on the sofa, I could send Hazel an email from my television. I mean, people can pretty much write, send, and read emails using a wide range of devices these days."

  "Jes' fascinating, lass. And can ye tell me more about this cloud ye mentioned?"

  By the time we finished the last of the Chinese food, it was nearing dawn, but Rune understood a lot more about technology, digital files, and the like. I closed my laptop and stretched before using the back of one hand to cover a yawn.

  "Hazel and I planned to go back out to the Sparrows’ property this morning, but I'm going to add a note in this email to tell her that I'm sleeping in today."

&nbs
p; "Should ye be venturing out there? Might it be dangerous?"

  "Nah. Besides, I want to find those jugs to get a better look at the labels."

  "Ye go on to rest, lass. I'll clean up."

  "No way. I can't ask you to do that."

  "Ye didn't ask, now go have a kip before ye pass out from exhaustion."

  "Aren't you tired?"

  "I get more than enough rest when I'm a cat."

  Rune's words made me feel all warm and tingly. "Well, thank you. I appreciate it."

  “’Tis the least I can do."

  Resisting the urge to hug him, I fled to the confines of my bedroom, once again locking the door behind me.

  When my phone erupted with the sound of a rooster crowing a mere four hours later, I blinked half a dozen or so times before using the fleshy parts of my palms to rub the sleep from my eyes. The sound of rain on my bedroom window made me burrow into the blankets, but I knew Hazel would either call or arrive soon--if she hadn't already.

  As I yawned through my usual morning routine, I could not stop thinking about those plastic jugs. While I was busy explaining technology to Rune, I should have been researching what their contents could have been. Why had I let myself get distracted? Did he use his alluring accent to distract me on purpose? Could he have--no. I refused to believe my houseguest-slash-housepet had anything to do with Christine Livingston's demise.

  In a plush reading chair in the corner of my bedroom, the tote bag I used to cart around my work supplies lay atop a pile of clean laundry that I never seemed to find time to put away. The heap of clothing spent more time in the chair than I did. Pulling my iPad from the tote, I did a quick online search for which chemicals dissolved human flesh. Opening the notepad app, I made a list of clues, facts, and theories as I went.

  Within minutes, I fell into a rabbit hole, each result I clicked on leading to another until I found myself reading an article about the brewery on Mandy Leigh's blog. The Careless Whispers article explained Thom and Asher's long-term plans for their business, including a greenhouse in which to grow locally-sourced beach plum bushes and a cattery.