Tails, You Lose (A Witch City Mystery Book 2)

by Carol J. Perry

  Primrose was the first to greet me. “Lee! I’m so glad you came. Come sit by me.” She tapped the shoulder of the man next to her and, with a smile and a jerk of her thumb, indicated that he should move. He did, and I slid onto the vacated stool. “Look at that,” she said, pointing toward the keno game, where Therese and Sammy had drawn a small crowd. “It turns out that Therese is some kind of a whiz at the game. She’s making Sammy rich.”

  “Nice for Sammy,” I said. “But I need to tell you about Thom. I talked to him. He’s at your friend Mira’s apartment.”

  “Oh, my God. For real? Is he okay?”

  “Depends on what you call okay, I guess,” I told her. “He’s warm and safe and dry. Mira’s away on a job, and Thom’s taking care of her cat.”

  “Jesus. Have you called his mother yet? She calls me ten times a day, wanting to know if I’ve heard anything.”

  “Oh, good. Then you have her number. Why don’t you call her now, while I give Kelly the good news?”

  “I will,” she said, then stood up. “Hey, Kelly! Come over here. Lee has something to tell you. It’s about Thom,” Primrose yelled.

  Primrose’s loud pronouncement brought not only Kelly to the bar, but Therese and Sammy, as well. Duke and Joe Greene hurried over to where I sat, too, all of them talking at once.

  “Have you heard from him?”

  “Do you know where he is?”

  “Is the kid okay?”

  I held up my hands, signaling them to be quiet. “Listen, everybody,” I said. “I talked to Thom less than half an hour ago. He’s in New York, and he’s safe. Primrose is calling his mom, and I’ve already told Pete.”

  Tears streamed down Kelly’s face, and Joe Greene hugged his daughter. “See, honey? I told you he’d be all right.”

  “When’s he coming back?” Duke wanted to know, perhaps thinking that his new position as bartender might end. “Or did he get a modeling job?”

  “He didn’t mention anything about a job,” I said, “and we talked for only a few minutes. I think he just wanted to let you all know he’s safe and well.”

  I hadn’t seen Pete come in, so I was surprised and pleased when he sat beside me on the stool Primrose had vacated. “They all look happy,” he said. “Everybody relieved about Thom?”

  “Absolutely,” I said. “And, Pete, after you talk to Primrose, you might want to speak to Duke. I think he’s figured out what Jonathan Wilson’s old map is all about.”

  Duke put coasters in front of us. “What’ll it be, folks?”

  “Just a Pepsi for me, Duke. Lee?”

  “Sounds good.”

  “Lee tells me you’ve got the old map figured out,” Pete said.

  “Think so.” Duke drew our sodas and placed them dead center on the round coasters. “It looked like a subway map to me,” he said. “And a subway is just a whole mess of little tunnels, kinda like the ones under Salem.”

  Pete nodded. “I think you might be right about that, Duke,” he said. “Good work. Did you tell Jonathan Wilson about your theory?”

  “Sure did. I called him tonight and told him about it. He thinks I’m right, too.”

  “A tunnel map, huh?” Sammy said. “Why didn’t I think of that? I should have seen it. I thought it was regular streets.” He slapped his forehead. “But do you know where the tunnels are?”

  “Not a clue,” the bartender said. “Could be anywhere under the whole dang city.”

  “Gee, Duke,” Therese said. “Did you figure out what the square box with the number on it means?”

  “Nope. Not yet.”

  “I did. I called Mr. Wilson tonight, too,” Kelly said.

  “Really?” Primrose had persuaded another bar patron to give up the seat on Pete’s other side, and she leaned forward, her elbows on the bar. “What does it mean?”

  “It’s a six, not a nine,” Kelly said firmly, “and it means this house.”

  CHAPTER 26

  “How the hell do you figure that?” Sammy asked. “You think the square with a six on it belongs to you somehow?” He grabbed Therese’s hand. “She’s nuts. Come on, kid. Back to the game.”

  “No, really. This house is number six,” Kelly insisted. “Tell them, Pa.”

  Joe Greene poured drinks as he spoke. “It’s a little complicated, but this place is kind of on the lot backward. When you came in here from the parking lot, you came in the front door, right?”

  Most everyone nodded.

  “Well,” Joe went on, “the parking lot used to be the backyard, and you came in here by what used to be the back steps.” He pointed to the wall behind him. “See, the front of the house was over there, facing that street around the corner. You can’t even see the old front door from the street anymore. It’s all covered up with bushes and trees and stuff. But Kelly’s right. There’s a rusty old number six on that side of the place, and this side got a whole new street number.”

  “Uh-huh,” Kelly said. “I told Mr. Wilson about it, and he believed me. Sounded excited, too. He’s coming over here first thing in the morning to see for himself.”

  “Is that right?” Sammy said. “Well, maybe you ain’t so nuts, after all.”

  Sammy and Therese returned to their game, Kelly went back to waiting on tables, and Pete spoke in low tones to Primrose. He pulled out his notebook and pencil, and made notes, nodding his head as she answered.

  As soon as Pete returned the notebook and pencil to his inside coat pocket, Primrose left us to join the group congregated around Sammy and Therese.

  “Looks like young Therese is some kind of keno genius,” Pete said.

  “I know,” I said. “She says she can see the numbers before they come up on the screen. But tell me about Thom. Are you going to bring him back to Salem? Find out what he knows about Bill?”

  “We’ll handle it.” Pete’s cop face was firmly in place.

  Clearly, he wasn’t going to talk about that topic, so I tried another. “Did you ever learn any more about Primrose’s background? Besides the fact that she has a valid driver’s license?”

  “Yeah, Friedrich and Chief Whaley checked her out. No problem. Nothing there for you to be concerned about.”

  He knows, but he’s not going to tell me about it.

  I tried once more. “Duke’s idea about the map is interesting, isn’t it?” I said. “If it’s a map of part of the tunnel, what do you think it means?”

  “I think he’s right,” Pete said. “Don’t know why I didn’t see it myself, since I’ve been working down there on and off since this whole mess started.”

  “And what about Kelly’s claim that the number on the map means this place? You think she’s right, too?”

  “I doubt it. But I’ll go back to city hall and dig up the old deeds to this property. Then I’ll look up whatever tunnel maps the city engineer has. If they match up with Wilson’s map, and if Kelly’s right about the six being this place, the circle with the dollar sign in it is pretty close by.” He smiled. “If word gets out about that, Joe’s parking lot is going to be full of treasure hunters with metal detectors.”

  “Nothing surprises me anymore. My little TV production class in the Trumbull building is turning out to be a lot more interesting than I thought it was going to be,” I said. “And not always in a good way.”

  “I know.” Pete looked at his watch. “I’m still on duty for a couple more hours, and I’ve done what I came here to do. Gotta run,” he said. “What about you? Can’t make Aunt Ibby stay up late, worrying.”

  “Aunt Ibby isn’t home. She had a date with Mr. Pennington. I’m going to be the one staying up late, worrying.”

  He laughed. “So the beard and wig thing didn’t scare her off, huh?”

  “Guess not. I think she’s flattered by the attention.”

  He took my hand. “Wish I could stay, but I can’t.”

  “Walk me out to my car?” I asked.

  “You bet.” He paid for our sodas and left a tip for Duke. We said good-bye to
the others, who were all focused on Therese, the keno wizard, and headed for the parking lot.

  “So the back stairs are the front stairs, and the front door is the back door,” I said.

  “And if the new tunnel is partly underneath the old tunnel,” he said, “does that mean up is down, and down is up?”

  “Why not?” I laughed. “It makes as much sense as anything else around here.”

  He gave me a quick peck on the cheek, and we climbed into our respective cars. I reached home before Aunt Ibby did, and made sure the porch light was blazing—to discourage any untoward senior citizen hanky-panky. I fed O’Ryan his before-bedtime saucer of warm milk, donned flannel pajamas, turned the TV to Tarot Time with River North, and prepared to wait up for my aunt.

  I had no intention of watching one of River’s creepy vampire movies, but I liked the tarot segments. Her first card reading involved the Two of Pentacles. River advised the caller that he had the ability to juggle two situations at once, and complimented him on his industrious nature.

  Must be nice. I can’t even juggle one.

  “Stay tuned during the first break in our feature film, Love at First Bite, starring George Hamilton.” River smiled. “I have some exciting news to share with all of you.”

  I decided that watching George Hamilton would never be really creepy, and it occurred to me that River’s exciting news might be about the promised coven gathering on the top floor of the Tabby.

  I heard our front door close softly just before Dracula’s coffin got lost. I hit the mute button. “Aunt Ibby? Is that you?”

  “Oh, are you still awake, dear? You didn’t have to wait up for me.”

  “Wouldn’t miss this for the world,” I told her. “Come right in here and tell me all about your date. Shall I make us some hot chocolate?”

  “You sound just like me,” she said, appearing in the doorway in stocking feet, holding her high-heeled shoes in one hand.

  “Of course I do,” I said, looking pointedly at the shoes and trying hard to keep a straight face. “Were you going to tippy toe up the stairs so I wouldn’t know how late you stayed out?”

  “You’re teasing me.”

  I laughed. “Still, tell me, was it fun?”

  She sat in one of the wing chairs with her feet curled up under her. “It really was, Maralee,” she said. “Rupert is such an interesting man. He’s been so many places and done so many things.” Her eyes sparkled. “Why, did you know he’s made arrangements for a big TV company to come and stage one of those ghost-hunting programs right there in the Trumbull building ? He’s even negotiating for a coven of witches to take part in it.”

  “Great,” I said, even though I was confident that covens don’t negotiate, WICH-TV was not a big TV company, and Mr. Pennington hadn’t arranged much of anything. But I wasn’t about to spoil the lovely glow Aunt Ibby had going on.

  She glanced toward the mute TV. “Oh, you’re watching River’s show. Don’t let me interrupt you.”

  The image of the tanned but distraught Dracula loomed on the silent screen. “I wasn’t really watching the movie,” I said. “But River is going to make a special announcement after the first break. And, Aunt Ibby, I have good news about Thom. He’s safe, staying with a new friend in New York.”

  “That’s wonderful!” she exclaimed. “His mother must be so relieved. You know, Rupert is quite fond of that class of yours. At least he’s fond of most of them.” She frowned. “Maralee, did you know that one of your students has a police record?”

  “Sammy? Yes. Pete told me.”

  “I’m glad you’re aware of it. Rupert is aiding the police in a top secret crime investigation. Naturally, he’s sworn to secrecy on the details, but he’s quite concerned about having an ex-convict on the premises.”

  “Sammy has paid his debt to society, as they say,” I told her. “But I appreciate Mr. Pennington’s concern.” I managed to cover a smile. So the Tabby director had portrayed himself to my aunt as not only a television show producer, but as some kind of undercover cop, as well.

  “Oh, look,” she said, pointing at the TV. “There’s River. Doesn’t she look pretty? Let’s hear her special announcement.”

  I turned on the sound. River, exotic in bright red satin with a sprinkling of silver stars in her long braid, smiled into the camera. “Dear friends of the night,” she said. “Most of you know me as a reader of the tarot, a seer of past and future happenings as revealed to me by the cards. But some of you also know me as a witch, a proud practitioner of the Wiccan tradition.”

  She paused, leaning closer to the camera. “Rarely are members of the Salem community invited to observe the inner workings of a coven. But later this week, a commercial-free episode of this show, Tarot Time with River North, will give you a live look at an actual attempt to contact a departed spirit, to free a ghost from her earthly bonds.”

  River’s excitement was evident. “Yes, dear ones, thirteen of us will gather on the top floor of the Trumbull building in downtown Salem. There we will reach out to the ghost of Tabitha Trumbull. Some of you may have seen her in the upper windows or heard her playing her piano late at night.” River gave a dramatic hand gesture. “You all know her as ‘the lady in white,’ a gentle spirit who has for many years wandered that dusty attic in her white wedding dress. Watch for further announcements about this special event on WICH-TV. But now back to gorgeous George Hamilton in Love at First Bite.”

  Aunt Ibby clapped her hands together. “How exciting ! Rupert must have arranged for River to host the show.”

  “Could be,” I said, knowing that now both Bruce Doan and Mr. Pennington were claiming competing credit for River’s idea. “Anyway, if it works out well, it’ll be a big plus for River’s television career.”

  “You’re right. But it’s entirely possible that Tabitha won’t show up on cue, isn’t it? Probable, actually.” Her smile faded. “Rupert will be disappointed.”

  “Even so, it’s good programming,” I said. “River’s ratings that night will be huge.”

  “True. I wonder how they know Tabitha’s wearing her wedding dress. I’d never heard that before.”

  “I guess River got that from me,” I said. “I haven’t had a chance to tell you. I saw a photo today of Tabitha in her wedding dress. She’s definitely the woman in my vision, and she’s wearing that dress.”

  “If that offer of hot chocolate is still good,” Aunt Ibby said, “and you don’t really want to watch the movie, let’s adjourn to the kitchen.”

  I whipped up a couple of cups of hot chocolate—instant, not the made-from-scratch kind my aunt served—and we took our usual places at the table.

  “Poor lonely Tabitha,” my aunt said. “I’m beginning to feel as though I know her. But tell me about Thom.”

  “Thom’s new friend is a model. He’s taking care of her cat while she’s on a shoot in Barbados.”

  “It’s good that he has a friend who took him in.”

  “Actually, she’s Primrose’s friend,” I said. “I called a number Primrose gave me to see if the woman might have heard from Thom, and he answered the phone himself.”

  “Has he found work, or will he be coming home soon?”

  “He told me he’s not coming back. It has something to do with how Bill Sullivan got from the bottom of that tunnel to the park.”

  “What did Pete say about that?” she asked.

  “Primrose gave Pete the model’s address,” I said. “I suppose the police will want to question Thom about whatever it is he knows about Bill.”

  “The tunnels seem to be a part of everything we talk about lately,” she said. “Bill Sullivan, the woman in your vision, the gunrunners, and now young Thom.”

  “You’re right,” I said. “And Duke thinks he knows what Jonathan Wilson’s map means.”

  “Really? What?”

  “Oddly enough, it could be a map of some underground tunnels.”

  “Didn’t Mr. Wilson know what the map represents?”


  “He thought it looked like city streets somewhere in Salem, but he couldn’t figure out where. It has some squares on it, which are probably buildings. One is marked with either the number nine or the number six, and Kelly Greene is convinced that it’s a six, and that it refers to their house. Mr. Wilson is going over there first thing in the morning to check it out.”

  She frowned. “There must be plenty of houses in Salem numbered six. Seems like a shot in the dark to me.”

  “To Pete too. But he’s going to look for some old deeds and maps of the tunnels, anyway.”

  “Pete will get to the bottom of it,” she said.

  “The bottom of the tunnel?” I asked. “I hope not. It’s cold and dark down there.”

  I meant it as a joke, but as I said the words, I shivered.

  CHAPTER 27

  The weather felt almost springlike as I drove to the Tabby in the morning. Most of the snow had melted, and the sky was cloudless. There’d be more snow coming our way, for sure, but for the moment at least, it was a “blue sky, convertible top down” kind of day. There wasn’t a hint of rain anywhere in the sky, so I parked, left the top down, and went inside. The dorm dwellers Primrose and Therese were already in the classroom, and Sammy arrived a short time later.

  “I’m not late, am I?” Kelly called from the mezzanine landing as she hurried forward and took a seat at the table.

  “No,” I said. “We’re all early. I’ve put your textbooks on the table. We’re going to review some of the technical aspects of producing our documentary.”

  Kelly opened her book, then snapped it shut again. “It’s too nice a day to stay inside, reading. We should go on a field trip.”

  “Too muddy outside.” Primrose closed her book, too. “I’ve got good shoes on.”

  “You don’t have any bad shoes.” Kelly shrugged one shoulder. “Hey, I guess Mr. Wilson doesn’t, either.”