Bloodstone (A Stacy Justice Mystery)

by Barbra Annino

  If it meant saving Ivy, that was a no brainer.

  Bring. It. On.

  I walked toward the door and called, “Thor! Road trip!”

  The dog bounded down the stairs and started talking to me in that half-bark, half growly sound that Great Danes make when they get excited.

  “Where are you going?” Leo asked.

  “Where’s my truck?” Chance asked.

  Cinnamon came downstairs then and said, “Cripes, you didn’t tell him yet?”

  So close. I slowly turned and Thor got jumpy, realizing we were going nowhere for the moment.

  “It’s on Crescent Drive, Chance. I had a little fender bender, but I swear I will pay for the damages.”

  Chance looked like I just kneed him in the kumquats.

  I walked over and, “I’m sorry, I really am. And I want you to know I appreciate all you’ve done.” I kissed him on the cheek and Leo shifted uncomfortably.

  I walked over, kissed Leo on the cheek and said, “And thank you for taking care of things here and for looking out for my family.”

  I left them standing there with their mouths open as Thor and I walked out the door. I hated to pull the flirtation card, but there was no way they were going to let me walk out of there without a million questions looking as I did and I just didn’t have the time.

  I was on a Mission from a Goddess.

  FIFTY-FOUR

  The shed was situated between the house and the cottage. Unfortunately, so was John. The man had impeccable timing. And by impeccable, I mean he was becoming a complete pain in my ass.

  Thor trotted along behind me and the clang of the locket against the ring on his collar reminded me there were three pennies inside. One, my birth year, one Ivy’s, a third unknown.

  Perhaps it was the birth year of the Guardian?

  I ignored John who was walking toward me and opened the shed. Yep. All my furniture. Never should have said I was going out of town. Those vultures. Pimping out my house. To be fair, they did own it and the rent was dirt cheap, but still.

  John came up behind me and said, “How’s it going, Sweet Cheeks? Kill anyone today?”

  “No.” I bent down to shove some boxes aside. None were labeled Blessed Book - Keep Away From Stacy. “But it’s still early.” I stood up, looked around for my keys.

  “Whoa, look at you. Let me guess, The Housewives of Transylvania.” He laughed at his own joke and I chucked a pebble at him.

  “That bar having a theme again tonight?”

  “Sure,” I said, because it very well could be.

  “Leo at the house?” he thumbed toward the inn.

  “I thought you were on your honeymoon. Isn’t your bride a bit annoyed that you’re spending all your time with your bro-mance?”

  “Nah, she don’t care.” He pulled something from his pocket. “I just came by anyways cuz she found these in the kitchen drawer. They yours?”

  I looked at the contents of his hand. “My keys! Thank you.”

  My keys. Deirdre had my keys? The keys to my office were on this key ring. And didn’t John say this morning that Deirdre had spilled a drink on Mr. Sayer while they were singing karaoke? That was why his shirt was wet.

  Was she the Guardian? Did she discover Sayer was a Hunter? If so, why hasn’t she come forward?

  Or was she a Hunter? She could have broken into my office if she had access to my keys.

  John turned to go and I said, “Where is she? I’d like to thank her.”

  “She’s out spending my money.”

  He turned again and I reached for his arm. “Wait a sec.”

  He faced me, one eyebrow arched.

  I said, “You know, I just realized I never thanked you for everything you did. How about I buy you a cup of coffee?”

  Maybe I could get some information from him. It wouldn’t come easy. I couldn’t just say, so John, is your wife a Voodoo priestess or perhaps a Guardian of an ancient text? But I could at least ask where they’re from, maybe get her maiden name. Anything would be more information then I had now.

  John smirked at me, “What are we friends now?”

  “It’s just a gesture.” I smiled. “I’ll throw in a donut.”

  John said, “Thanks, but no thanks. I thought I’d grab a six pack and catch a game.” He headed for his car.

  “I like football,” I said. “I’ll buy.”

  That was perhaps a bit too suspicious.

  He stopped, tilted his head and said, “What’s with you?”

  Gus pulled up then, looking like a pound puppy. Probably because his badge was missing. Leo was bound to come out of the house any second now.

  “Forget it. Have a great day.”

  Thor and I hopped in the car and sped off.

  We pulled up to Muddy Waters coffee house a few minutes later for some octane. I reached back to check the pennies in the locket and jotted down the date of the one I had yet to identify. It was older than the other two.

  Derek knocked on the window then. He made a drinking gesture and pointed to the coffee shop. I nodded and removed the door key from the ring so Thor could stay in the warm car. I climbed out and joined Derek in line.

  Iris Merriweather greeted us. She was not only the local barista, but the gossip columnist for the paper as well. She didn’t get a lot of action because most people clammed up around her but when she did sink her teeth into a story, you could bet it was the talk of the town for weeks. Mostly because that was all there was to talk about until the next juicy gem. She believed that people had every right to know if their neighbors were philanderers, cheats, ex-cons, or Tea Party members.

  I could only imagine the earful she was getting from the locals about the incident at the Geraghty Girls House this morning.

  She placed our orders on the counter in front of us, her excitement literally spilling over onto my shiny black boots as the coffee sloshed. I grabbed a napkin and wiped up the spillage.

  “Oh boy, I was hoping you two would come in. Wow, do we have a juicy one for the paper, huh?” She glanced from Derek to me, her glasses bobbing. “Love your outfit, Stacy.”

  Derek turned to me and said, “Yeah, who are you supposed to be anyway? You look like my cousin Cindy when she got picked up at the Harley Davidson store for selling crack.”

  “Remind me never to invite your family for Thanksgiving,” I said.

  “Oh like you’re one to talk.” Derek paid for both our coffees and I thanked him.

  Iris said, “So, I was thinking about some headlines.” She babbled off three titles and I had to stop her at the last one. Folks are dying for a night at the Geraghty House.

  “Sounds great, Iris. You write them all down and send them to us, okay?”

  She bobbed her head up and down, and went about filling the muffin tray. “All this and I get to cover the murder mystery dinner. Should be a great weekend!”

  Derek and I took a seat near the window so I could keep an eye on Thor.

  “You going to that?” he asked and sipped his coffee. A bit of whipped cream lingered on his lips and he wiped it off with a napkin.

  I gave him my “are you kidding me” look.

  “Right. Anyway, what have you got?” he asked.

  Obviously I couldn’t tell him everything. But I didn’t see the harm in mentioning the zombie powder, especially since his aunt had knowledge of Voodoo. I wondered if he did too.

  Then again, could I trust him? What if he somehow had something to do with this? Even though Derek seemed like a straight-up guy, naive even (he wasn’t long out of college) I was wary of everyone then.

  He said, “I take your silence for a complete strike-out, but that’s okay.” He pulled something from a satchel, lay a folder in front of me. “Because I got the nuts, baby.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “Have you been watching The World Series of Poker again?”

  “You want to talk about that outfit?”

  “Not especially.” I really needed to at least wash my face. The ja
cket was covering most of the Xena belt but there was just entirely too much leather involved to be taken seriously anymore.

  Derek looked around, leaned in and said, “Two words.” He held up his first two fingers as if I needed a visual aid. “Zombie. Powder.”

  He slapped the table and leaned way back in his chair, tilting the front legs at an angle.

  I sipped my coffee, not wanting to ruin his big reveal, but he caught on quick.

  “Do not tell me you have heard of it, woman.”

  It used to annoy me when he addressed me like that, but Derek says it with an air of respect. Kind of like you might say Sir. Or Mr. President.

  “It’s a powdered form of the toxin found in the puffer fish. Right?”

  “Did you call the ME too?”

  I nodded and that seemed to make him feel better.

  Derek launched into the phone call he made first to the medical examiner, asking if there was a substance that could mimic death, but allow the victim to survive. Then he called his aunt in New Orleans. “So she tells me how nasty this stuff is and that they use it in Haiti where she’s from.” He gulped some coffee. “And she says, there is no way the doll and the zombie juice are a coincidence. She’s pretty sure they are related. So what’s our move?”

  “What time does that dinner start, Derek?”

  He asked Iris.

  “Cocktails at seven, dinner at eight,” she called.

  It was nearly four now. The drive to and from the bank, barring little to no traffic would take an hour and a half. That put the time at 5:30--if I left right now. Guests might still be in their rooms, readying for dinner, so I could chance that I could catch some of them for an interview when I returned. However, I still didn’t know where the Honeycuts or the three girls had been re-booked. There were two hotels and seven B&Bs in town. Calling them all would take too much time.

  For Derek it was about a story. For me, it was so much more. But I couldn’t tell him that and I couldn’t do it all myself. I thought of asking Cinnamon to help, but quickly relinquished the thought. Subtly was not my cousin’s strong suit and if anyone gave her an attitude, she might ruin any chances of getting the information I needed to get Ivy back. And the clock was ticking. From my time spent in Chicago, I knew that the first twenty-four hours were crucial in any kidnapping, though I was certain she wouldn’t be harmed. From what Birdie told me, whoever took her needed me too. And of course, the third in our little band of merry morons.

  What worried me the most was I still hadn’t received any contact from the kidnapper.

  I sighed. I needed Derek’s help. Trusting him was the only way.

  “Come on,” I said.

  We said goodbye to Iris and she waved and said, “You kids should really think about coming to the dinner. The view of the river is so clear from the hotel.”

  I stopped, sucked in a deep breath and grabbed Derek’s hand. “It’s tonight.”

  FIFTY-FIVE

  “Yeah it’s tonight, we just covered that. You okay?” Derek asked.

  I heard the words he was saying, but my mind was focused on another message. The only clue I have uncovered as to where the attack will happen is this: The river is clear on this fateful night, though the Hunters are hidden well within sight.

  The murder mystery dinner was to take place at the Riverview hotel tonight, from which the Amethyst river could be seen. Every participant had a role to play. So of course, they would be hidden behind the identity of their characters.

  Then, a horrifying thought occurred to me. What if folks were parading around town via their character names, maybe even signed those names into the guestbooks? Hadn’t Birdie said the instructions were sent via confirmation? What if the murder mystery instructions said Mr. Sayer did it with a candlestick in the ballroom, but the man himself was named something else? Like Mahoney.

  Maybe I should go to whoever was running the murder mystery dinner to find out how it was organized, how it would be set up and how it would play out.

  “Get in the car,” I told Derek.

  He didn’t question me, he just did it. I drove to a quiet spot and pulled out the guestbook.

  No re-location information. “Damn it!” I did have receipts though.

  “You’re holding out on me. I knew it!” Derek said and Thor growled a low warning.

  “It is not what you think. I promise. Look here.” I handed him the guestbook, searching for a way to explain my theories on Mr. Sayer’s assault without mentioning the, ahem, family matters. “This is the list of guests who checked in along with Mr. Sayer last night. Maybe one of them slipped him the drug.”

  “My aunt says they put it in people’s shoes. Or blow it in their face.”

  “Fine, maybe one of them blew it in his face. Also, he was out for a while at Down and Dirty. Talk to Monique and see who he was hanging out with, how long he stayed, etcetera. Call Gladys if you have to, she’ll be glad to help with the data searches. Start her on the names from the credit card receipts.”

  Gladys was the research assistant at the paper and a huge fan of Birdie and the aunts. Like little girls dream of being Taylor Swift, Gladys wanted to be a Geraghty Girl.

  The Campbell party said just that in the guestbook and there was only one receipt. Vivian Campbell, though I knew there were more women in their party. The Honeycut receipt indicated the first name to be Claudia. Right, a gift from their daughter. John and Deirdre paid in cash. So did Sayer. First name, Michael.

  “What are you going to do?” Derek asked.

  “I have to run an errand. Insurance companies.” I rolled my eyes for effect. “You lose one guest and there’s all kinds of red tape.” I turned my head. Wow, that was almost believable.

  “Okay, then. I’ll keep you posted,” Derek said and opened the car door.

  “Wait a sec,” I said. “Start with the Dinellis. John and Deirdre. He’s an ex-cop from Chicago who investigates judges now. She’s a court reporter. Leo and John go back a ways so you can try to pump him for information if you have to.”

  “Anything else?”

  I was about to say no when a thought occurred to me. “Actually, yes. Call your aunt. Ask her if there is anything that can combat zombie powder.”

  Derek gave me a funny look and then hopped out. A few seconds later, a text came from Cinnamon.

  U ok?

  I texted back. Sure

  I don’t believe u. Pick me up?

  Oh no. I didn’t want Cinnamon involved in this. Normally I was confident that my cousin could very much take care of herself, but this was something way beyond my comfort level. Even though I was better armed than a tank full of ninjas, I couldn’t risk her getting hurt.

  Can’t. Outta town.

  Liar.

  ??

  Another text came in then. I pressed the ignore button and started the engine.

  Cinnamon opened the passenger side door of the car and said, “I’m in.”

  “I can see that. Now get out.”

  “No, I mean, I’m in. Whatever you’re about to do, I want to help. Got a good nap, so I’m ready to go. And since I haven’t slapped anyone yet today, I’m pretty wound up.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of. I don’t want this to turn into a scene from Rambo.”

  “Is that a shot at my Italian heritage?”

  “That’s a shot at your anger management problem.”

  She looked less offended. “I can accept that. Where we headed?”

  “Cinnamon, I said no. Get out of the car.”

  “If you think I’m going to let you do...” She looked me up and down, her sunglasses perched on her nose, dark hair cascading down her shoulders. “Whatever the hell it is you do when you’re dressed like the Princess of Darkness, you’re loonier than Lolly. And by the way, I’m driving.” She scooted all the way over, forcing me to open the driver’s door and tumble out of the car. I saw her twist her head to say something to Thor. His ears perked up and then he stretched out across the ba
ckseat.

  I sighed and my phone chirped, reminding me I had a text as I walked around the car.

  It was from Ivy.

  IVY GERAGHTY’S PERSONAL BOOK OF SHADOWS

  by Ivy Geraghty

  Entry #15

  I am about to go all Krakatoa on someone’s ass! That’s right, bitches, you have messed with the wrong Warrior. Luckily, I managed to eat the Ogham note before they grabbed me (which was so not Snicker’s bar satisfying, let me tell you.) My Geraghty instincts were on high alert. I sensed the Danger before I was taken. And as one of the chosen, I am sworn to protect The Secret, even with my notebook and backpack gone. Little do they know, I always carry pen and paper hidden on my person.

  Hark! Do I hear? There is talk of moving me. Who is on the other end of the phone? I get to work calling on Petey and Moonlight.

  -Ivy Geraghty, Prisoner of War

  FIFTY-SEVEN

  The message read, ten pm, river hotel.

  I had to try. Even though it was doubtful the text came from Ivy or even that an answer would come, still I had to try.

  Who is this? I texted back.

  Nothing.

  It was close to 4:30 then. I decided that Cinnamon driving might not be such a bad idea after all. I could remove the chaps and wipe the crap off my face, plus make a few phone calls.

  I opened the door, leaned my head in and said, “How soon can you get us to Havenswood?”

  Cinnamon frowned at the dashboard. “In this pontoon boat that Gramps calls a Buick? Forty-five minutes, at least.”

  “Let’s get your car.”

  Cin smiled wide at that and we made a quick stop at Panzano’s Autobody to pick up the red Trans Am with the phoneix rising painted on the hood. I waited by the Buick with Thor as Tony scooted out from underneath a silver sedan. He smiled at the sight of his wife, his perpetually tanned skin marked with grease splotches. He stood up, wiped his hands on a red towel and leaned in to kiss her.