I cleared my throat to get her attention. “Ethan Forbes killed the keeper so you wouldn’t be able to turn into mermaids any more? Is that what you’re saying? Why?”
“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” When I didn’t respond, she added, “Ethan Forbes doesn’t want any attention turned to his shifter activities. His whole family turns into big cats.”
I was horrified. “What do they do, eat people? Attack people?”
She shook her head. “No, they don’t. No one’s ever reported anyone on the island being attacked by wild animals or anything like that.” She shrugged. “The point is, Ethan doesn’t want anyone to know he’s a shifter.”
“But no one would believe such a thing,” I pointed out.
“Look, you’d have to ask him. I can only assume he doesn’t want any talk of paranormal activity because that will attract the wrong sort of attention to the island. Rumour has it he’s engaged in illegal activities.”
“Such as?”
She shrugged. “I’m not sure, but I’ve heard it’s something to do with diamonds, illegal diamonds. They say it’s how he made his money. He’s the richest man on the island, you know. Anyway, I’ve gotta get out of here. You slip out the front door. I’m going out the back way.”
She opened the door and pushed me in the small of my back. I all but staggered onto the street. I saw to my fright it was now dark. I hadn’t realised quite how late it was.
I wrapped my arms around myself and picked up speed. I was deathly afraid now.
There were no golf carts in sight. As I made to cross the road, I heard the roar of an engine. I looked up, straight into headlights.
It was clear the car wasn’t going to stop. I eyed the side of the road. Would I have time to make it? I sprinted faster than I ever had in my life and threw myself into the undergrowth. The car passed close to me, far too close for comfort. The tyres blew air against my face. I opened one eye and saw the back of a BMW 501 Cabriolet V8 disappear down the road.
Chapter Eleven
The mermaid had been right, and so had the mysterious man in the cave. I was in danger, and now I knew I was in danger from Ethan Forbes.
But what could I do? I lay in the undergrowth for some time, terrified. What if he came back for me? On the other hand, I didn’t want to make my way back to the resort because that would give him another opportunity to run over me. I had no idea what to do.
I pulled my phone from my handbag to call the police and saw to my dismay that my battery was flat. I had forgotten to charge it. I had no idea where the police station was. The island suddenly seemed deserted.
After what seemed an age, I crept from my hiding place. I held my breath, listening for the sound of a car. There was a stony silence, broken only by the screeching of bats. I scurried away, keeping my back to buildings and looking for an escape route should someone try to kill me again.
Finally, I saw a light in a building. I would be able to call the police. When I got to the door, I saw a brass plate announcing Mayor Tobias Cummerbottom. I reached for the handle and then hesitated. Just how close was the mayor to Ethan Forbes? And would he believe me? Surely he would have no idea of Ethan’s illegal activities. But what if he did? Maybe they were in it together. Perhaps I should steel myself, go in, and ask to make a call. I could see no alternative.
With that firm resolve, I opened the door and hurried inside. No one was around. I rang the little bell on the front counter.
The mayor presently sauntered out the door. “Oh, it’s the journalist,” he said with clear derision.
“My phone battery is flat, and I need to call the police.” My voice was trembling; I could barely speak.
His eyebrows shot skyward. “The police? Whatever has happened?”
“Someone just tried to run over me,” I said.
“In a golf buggy?”
I shook my head. “I need to call the police.”
His expression at once changed to sympathy. “You have scratches on your arm. You’re bleeding. Please, come into my office.”
I followed him into his office and sat in the plush chair he indicated. “The police have left the island for the night,” he said. “This is a law-abiding island and we have no police presence here. They have to come from the mainland and the last ferry has left for the night.”
“Oh,” I said in a small voice.
“Why don’t you tell me what happened?” His tone was encouraging.
“I was talking to someone in a shop, and when I came out, a car headed straight for me. It tried to hit me.”
He frowned deeply. “A car, you say? Are you sure the car was trying to run over you and not merely speeding?”
“Absolutely positive.”
“That is most disturbing,” he said. “Did you get a look at the driver? Were there any passengers?
I shook my head. “No, it was far too dark for that. I have no idea who it was.”
“Did you see the car? There are hardly any cars on the island. Make? Colour?”
“I did, but I think I should tell the police rather than you.”
The mayor leant forward, a kindly expression on his face. “I’m the law here when the police aren’t on the island. I’m not sure why you’re reluctant to tell me.”
“It was Ethan Forbes,” I blurted out.
He gasped. “You’re kidding! Are you certain?”
I nodded. “I have a thing for nice cars, and he was driving that vintage BMW 501 Cabriolet V8 he was driving earlier today.”
His face went white. “You couldn’t have made a mistake?”
I shook my head. “I was reluctant to tell you because you’re such close friends.”
“We’re not close friends at all,” he said in a dismissive tone. “It’s just that we are the two most influential men on the island. We have a good working relationship. Do you have any idea why he would intend you any harm?”
“I’m a journalist working for a paranormal magazine,” I told him. “Perhaps he doesn’t want anyone here investigating the paranormal.”
“Well, I don’t know about that, but I think you need to speak with the police about it first thing in the morning. I’ll call and get them to come over on the earliest ferry. Meanwhile, I’ll fetch you some Band-Aids.”
With that, he left the room. That had gone far better than I thought. I stood up and walked over to the ornamental plaster mantelpiece over a fake fireplace. I thought it rather strange to have a fireplace, even a fake one, in a place that remains in perpetual summer. I cast a glance over framed photos perched next to enormous golfing trophies.
I looked at a photo and then did a double take. There was the BMW 501 Cabriolet V8, but it was the mayor sitting in it, not Ethan Forbes.
I picked up the photo and looked at it. I tried to fight the realisation that dawned on me nonetheless. Ethan Forbes had not tried to kill me—it was Mayor Cummerbottom.
I looked up as he entered the room.
Chapter Twelve
As Mayor Cummerbottom locked the door behind him, I searched the room for a weapon, anything at all I could use to defend myself. If only my phone’s battery hadn’t been dead, I could have called 000, emergency. Then again, if my battery hadn’t been flat, I wouldn’t be trapped in a murderer’s office in the first place.
“Excuse the cliché, but I see the game is up,” he said, gesturing to the photo.
He didn’t have a gun or a knife, but he clearly spent all his time in the gym. I fought the blind panic as it hit me again and again in waves.
“It was you,” I said in a small voice. “Why?”
“Ethan borrowed my car to drive an important guest from the mainland back to the ferry,” he explained. “He wanted to impress him, so we swapped cars for the day.” He laughed, not a kindly laugh, but a maniacal one. “Oh, I see what you meant—why did I want to kill you?”
I nodded and backed against the mantelpiece. I snatched up a large golf trophy, but he snapped, “Drop it!”
I did
as I was told.
He pushed on. “Do you believe in the paranormal?”
“Yes, well, not to a large degree to be honest. I suppose I believe in it more and more as time goes on, especially working for a magazine that reports on the paranormal.” I stopped speaking. This man wanted to murder me and I was carrying on a conversation as if I were having coffee with a girlfriend? It must have been an automatic response driven by sheer terror.
“The keeper, who I also did away with, had made potions for Ethan Forbes for years. The Forbes family shifts into big cats by means of the potions, you see. Ethan finally got the formula out of him, but the keeper kept experimenting. Are you aware that there are some plants that only grow on Whitehaven Island and nowhere else in the world?”
I nodded weakly and sized up the distance to the window. Maybe if I sprinted and burst through the window onto the street, I could get away from him that way. His office was on the ground floor after all.
The mayor was still speaking. “The keeper was on close terms with his niece, and early one morning he noticed a possum eating a particular rare plant, and then later he noticed a possum swimming in the sea. Possums don’t swim in the sea, so he was intrigued. He made a potion from the plant and tested it on himself. Consequently, he became a merman. The old fool made the mistake of telling me. I can only assume he told his niece about it too. She no doubt found she could transform into a mermaid for a short space of time and told all her friends. This was only recently, mind you.”
“So Ethan Forbes found out?” I asked despite my fear.
He nodded. “Yes, but he had nothing to do with this. There are rumours that he’s into illegal activities, but he’s squeaky clean. I think he suspects me though, so I’ll have to take care of him right after I take care of you.”
At that moment, thunder cracked overhead. “A tropical storm’s hit,” he said in a casual tone just as the lights went out.
The rain drummed heavily as if from nowhere and the next thing I knew, his hands reached for my throat. His momentum pushed me over backwards to the ground.
Was this really the end? Would my life end this way? I was too feeble to fight him off.
“You know, you unhealthy, overweight girls disgust me. If you’d spent time in the gym instead of stuffing your face with cakes, you might have had a chance of getting away from me.”
A surge of anger coursed through my veins. Was he calling me fat? My fingers closed around the golf trophy I had dropped. I grabbed it, and even though oxygen was ebbing from my body, I crashed it into his head with all my might.
His body went limp. With some effort, I managed to push him off me.
I debated whether to hit him over the head again with the golf trophy. In movies, people always thought they had disposed of the threat, but then the threat came back and murdered them. Still, if I hit him over the head again I might kill him, and I didn’t want that. I decided to leave, and fast. I felt my way to the door, but it was locked. I turned around and threw the golf trophy through the window.
“You almost hit me!” a voice called from outside the window.
I stepped backwards. “Who is it?”
“A friend. I’m here to rescue you.”
“You’re too late!” I yelled. “I rescued myself. And that man would have killed me if he hadn’t insulted me.”
A flash of lightning cast the man’s form into silhouette as he stepped between the shards of broken glass into the room. “I’m not sure I understand.”
I peered it the darkness. “Who are you?”
“I can’t tell you that yet,” he said, “but we’ll meet again later.”
Despite the tension, or perhaps because of it, a little thrill of excitement ran through me at his words. Although I had not seen his face, I certainly liked the outline of his tall, muscular body. And that deep voice!
“What will I do now?” I asked him.
“I can’t make my presence here known, but I’ll take off the mayor’s belt and tie his hands tightly behind his back. I’ll make an anonymous call to the effect that I saw the mayor attacking someone. Then I’ll disappear and you can tell Forbes the whole story.”
Chapter Thirteen
Melissa sat on top of a small filing cabinet while I tapped at random on my keyboard with one finger, hoping Skinny would hear and think I was typing a story.
“And that’s all that happened?” Melissa asked me, a look of disappointment on her face.
I held up both hands in exasperation. “All that happened? There were mermaids and shifters—and murder! What more do you want?”
Melissa waved one finger at me. “No silly, the hot guy who said you’d meet again. Was he cuter than Plumber Bob? Or Tiler Henry?” A new bathroom was being built at the office, and Melissa and I had assigned nicknames to the builders. “Is that all that happened with the hot guy?” she added.
I shrugged. “I don’t even know if he was hot. I only saw his silhouette. Having said that, I must admit his silhouette was pretty good.”
“And he did say you’d meet again,” Melissa reminded me. “Anyway, hurry up, Misty, you haven’t been tapping on the keyboard for the last little bit.” We could hear angry stomping footsteps outside. We both turned white. “Too late,” she added.
Skinny opened the door hard onto the side of my chair. “Misty,” she said tersely, “I’ve just read over your story. It’s not as bad as usual.” She thrust a bunch of papers at me.
I looked down and saw there were only five red marks slashed through every paragraph. Skinny had clearly liked my story.
“What are you doing now?” she snapped. “It’s no time to rest on your laurels. Get back to work.”
“I’m waiting for Tiler Henry,” I said. “He’s expected here any minute, and I have to give him new instructions for the bathroom.”
Her forehead did its best to scrunch into an expression of surprise. “The bathroom? Henry, you say? He’s here in Australia? He’s coming to our magazine?”
It was my turn to be surprised. “Yes.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she bellowed, waving both her hands in the air in a good impression of a helicopter.
I leant back against my tiny desk. “I didn’t think it was important. Keith told me to speak to him because Keith’s away for the day.”
“Keith assigned this to you?” She was still yelling.
I nodded.
“That’s obviously a mistake. I’ll be the one to interview him.”
“Interview him?” I said. “Why would you want to interview him?”
“Because I interview all the really important people. It’s not your job; you’re just a lowly journalist. This man is really important, so I need to be the one to interview him.”
“He’s important?” I echoed. “I didn’t know that.”
Skinny leant forward and scowled at me. “You work in the media, and you’ve never heard of him? Surely you’re aware he has his own show?”
I shrugged. “No, I had no idea.”
“When he comes, you are to show him immediately to my office, and you are not to interview him at all. Do you understand?”
“Sure.” Skinny left, slamming the door behind her. I looked over at Melissa, who was doubled over with laughter, clutching her stomach.
“What was that all about?” I asked her.
Before she could respond, Skinny opened the door hard onto my chair again. “Melissa, get back to your office right now.”
Melissa hurried out the door, still laughing.
The tiler arrived moments later.
“Henry, do you have a renovation show on TV or something?” I said by way of greeting, handing him the instructions Keith had given me.
“No?” He looked at me as though I was out of my mind.
“For some reason, my editor wants to interview you.”
“But I’ve already started work here.”
“No, not a job interview. She wants to interview you about your work. She insisted,
I’m afraid. Come this way.” I knocked on Skinny’s door and stuck my head around it. “Skinny, um, I mean Daisy, Henry is here.”
“You took your time,” Skinny hissed at me. She shot out of her chair and put on her best, and fakest, smile. I opened the door so Henry could step into the room, and shut it behind him.
As I walked away, Melissa hurried over and grabbed my arm. “Misty, don’t you see? Skinny thinks Henry the tiler is Tyler Henry from The Hollywood Medium.”
Realisation hit me like a ton of bricks, followed by a bloodcurdling screech from Skinny’s office, “Misteee!”
About Morgana Best
After surviving a childhood of deadly spiders and venomous snakes in the Australian outback, bestselling author Morgana Best writes cozy mysteries and enjoys thinking of delightful new ways to murder her victims.
Follow Morgana Best online at www.morganabest.com
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The Cat Burglar
Samantha Silver
Summary
The main prize at a surfing competition that Angela is judging disappears, and she has to get it back before the competition.
Chapter One
Peak summer had finally arrived in Willow Bay, and with it, the yearly summer festival that brought people from all over the Pacific Northwest – and sometimes further – to our sleepy little coastal Oregon tourist town for a week of summer fun and adventure.
Spell or High Water Page 29