Hexes and X's (Z&C Mysteries, #3)

by Kane, Zoey

  “Does anyone need an ambulance?”

  A man raised a hand while holding the other over an eye. Somebody supporting him yelled, “Here!” A deputy jogged over and took hold of the man under his arm and walked him toward the waiting ambulance.

  “Anyone else need medical attention?” the fireman yelled. No one moved or said anything. “In that case, hurry away, but carefully!”

  In the background a fireman could be heard, calling to the others, “The pumps have been turned off. We’re going to let it burn out.” So a line of yellow jackets in red hats could be seen standing by, watching the blaze from a distance.

  Too-Tall Riley Jones appeared out of the crowd walking their way. Zo said, “I feel another Sam Spade moment: His glide was like a young lion, beautiful, his muscles rippling the uniform with every stride. Those penetrating turquoise eyes pulled me under the brim of his hat. I wanted to touch, but that would be deadly, a forbidden chasm that told you it would be a big mistake. So, I decided to smile instead and force my thoughts to the fire that lit up the sky like spotlights in an air raid. Was it fiendish arson or a stupid accident?! Either way, I could use a drink. The heat had parched my lips and dried my tongue; was it the fire, or Deputy Jones?”

  Claire laughed. “Mom, you want Deputy Jones.”

  “As if…”

  “Hello, ladies. May I escort you to your car?” He went on to say, “I will be at Coven House’s hearing, as an officer of the court to keep order. At the same time I can start an official report on your friend’s disappearance to get it ready to activate … providing he has not returned with a hangover.”

  “Bring a couple of pens, deputy.” Claire affirmed. “And… I wonder what you will think of the mannequin that my mom shot down the night before.”

  “Target practice?” he ventured; but, this time a slight frown crossed his forehead, followed up by a smile and some uncertain curiosity.

  They all were standing around the little Volkswagen, the driver’s door open. “No. We heard noise in the attic. We went up to see. It appeared to be rushing us, so Mom shot it three times in the heart.”

  “Whoa! I’ll remember to stay out of the attic. However, that is worthy of going in my report as an unusual circumstance as evidence to the possible disappearance of your friend.” Then he added, “There is no law against firing a gun in the county where Coven House is as long as there was no murder and no damage of private property; that would include livestock and pets.” The deputy shut the door for Claire, safely inside behind the steering wheel, then went around and opened Zo’s door.

  “Thank you, Deputy Jones. We will not run amuck.”

  “Do you need help with your seatbelt, ma’am?”

  Zo thought, Is he kidding? “You know,” she quickly organized her words, “I just think too much fabric from my blouse is getting in between the seatbelt lock.”

  He took his trooper’s hat off and put it on top of the car and leaned in.

  A Sam Spade moment overcame Zo again: In the glare of neon lights, the big city back street drums and grinding music could be heard from the strip joint on the corner. People who hunched over eating at the counter of a nearby chilidog stand, heaped on the hot peppers. Smooth, magneto-pulsing guys walking along the sidewalk with beautiful dames didn’t have anything on the Too-Tall Jones; but this one—was a heavy danger to all the mama’s girls.

  “How’s that feel?”

  “Huh?”

  “The seatbelt. It isn’t too tight is it?” the deputy asked.

  “Oh.” Zo laughed in a strange high giggle that she was not used to hearing from her own mouth. “That will be just fine. Thank you.”

  He looked at Claire with a big smile. “You ladies drive safe.” He got his hat and returned to the fire.

  Claire started the car, and then looked at her mom. “Sam Spade?”

  “Oh yeah…”

  EIGHT

  A lot was on Zo and Claire’s minds as they were getting ready to settle down for the night: a finger bone and map, a missing ex, and a blown up gas station. It had been an eventful day, to say the least.

  Claire pulled her feet under the covers in her bed as Zo sat on the edge of her own bed, making a phone call. “Hi, Matilda. Did I wake you…? Oh, you are here in your office…? Ah, I guess you heard about Slobber’s gas station…? Uh huh, I’m glad no one was there… Yeah, we’re a bit shaken up but fine… Another reason I called—you need to tell me a little more about your Grandfather Zachariah… Yes, I found out… Okay. Claire and I will be down.”

  Zo answered her daughter’s expectant expression. “Get your slippers on. Matilda wants to talk to us down in the office.”

  The duo made their way down the stairs by the light of the moon coming in through the foyer windows. They followed the hallway and passed the library toward a glow sifting out from under a dark door. The darkness was heavy and had a sense of swallowing one into a shroud of evil of no return. Zo knocked on the door anyway.

  “Come in…”

  Zo turned the cold knob and pushed the heavy door open. Matilda’s silhouette sat by a dim yellow lamp light at an ornate desk, boasting laughing gargoyles holding it all up. She wore a black floor length dress and bent witch’s hat.

  Matilda laughed at their surprised expressions. “Don’t be too shocked with what I am wearing. I was invited to an Elks Club mixer. I speak about the work we do here at Coven House in our canning and candle work. They make jokes about us and then donate a little money to our cause. If it wasn’t for the fact that a couple of them are regulars here for potions, we might not get any donation.”

  “You look quite convincing,” Zo said. “Well,” she continued as Claire and she took a couple of chairs to sit, “tell us about the legend of your grandfather—the pirate.”

  Her eyes gleamed. “Oh, Grandpa was no pirate. He was a salvage captain. He got quite a bit of treasure that way, which is all legal. Legend has it, that hidden in this house is a pirate’s chest of gold and jewels, but I rather think it’s a chest of pearls, since he sailed along pearl-rich islands. Rumors, though. It’s all rumors, since there is nothing to verify them as facts today.”

  “Interesting,” Zo said. “I guess now is a good time to tell you that we got an old antique note that said, ‘Let the game begin’ and ‘Finder beware!’” She shot a glance at her daughter. “You know Jack is missing. You don’t suppose—”

  “That would be quite a stretch,” Matilda said. “The only thing that might make sense there is the threat in relation to the sketch. But why would Grandpa threaten himself with a game? Silly.”

  “No. That would be more likely a threat to people trying to find his treasures.”

  “…That’s probably so. I’ve heard that a thief even held a hostage for ransom. When Grandpa refused to give them treasure, the hostage lost a finger. I don’t know the rest of the story for sure, but it seems the finger bone tied around the map isn’t such a coincidence.

  “But I have told you all is rumor. All there is for possible clues are the sketch, finger bone, and the old note you mention that Jack found in my bedroom… evidently by snooping.”

  Matilda leaned over the desk, looking at Zo and Claire very seriously. “Do you two feel that there is too much trouble here for your comfort? I’m not going to say that there would be no danger associated with all of this, because it involves wealth, whether real or rumored.”

  “So far that doesn’t make me want to run away. It makes me want to stay to find it. What else you got?” Claire asked.

  “I really didn’t put much belief into the legend of hidden treasure, even when I found the sketch and the finger bone. I considered them artifacts of the past—nothing for today—and didn’t worry. I want you to discover the past without prejudice and that is why I have not offered much information on the subject. Plus, I am hoping we might run across something that would prove that I am the rightful heir to his mansion, now Coven House.”

  “Don’t you think it interesting,
Mom, that Matilda’s own coven has a claim in for Coven House? Isn’t that a little disloyal and insensitive to you, Matilda?”

  “That is just a doubling of odds for me. The coven would turn it back to me on condition that on my death with no heirs, the house would continue with them.”

  Zo nodded with understanding. “Tell us more about Captain Zachariah Dread’s legend.”

  Matilda paused, before saying, “Grandpa has a reputation for having been a cutthroat. No one would dare cross him, unless they were prepared to die. With three levels, there are quite a few areas unexplored within these walls. Secret passages and, what I believe to be, booby-traps.”

  She leaned closer and said with a low voice, “It’s been said that a long, long time ago a housekeeper found a hidden door, and plummeted to her death through a false floor. So I suspect the path to the treasure is booby-trapped. The sisters and I have called the legend of the boarded up door with its accompanying trap, the false floor, a hex.”

  Claire arched an eyebrow to that.

  “I think the tongue-in-cheek reference makes us feel more secure. I never ever told the sisters I believe the rumors of treasure, and I don’t think any of us are brave enough to go searching around like the housekeeper for anything anyway.”

  “Very interesting,” Zo said. “Do you know where the secret door is?”

  “Nope. Not a clue. I know, that’s no fun. It might not even be a true story. Who knows for sure? It happened way before my time.”

  “The way I’m looking at it, Mom, we should go on with the understanding we can turn around and run home anytime we want to,” Claire said honestly in front of Matilda.

  “Yes!” Matilda agreed. “You’re a clever young woman. Good plan.”

  Zo and Claire made their way back up the stairs, leaving Matilda in her office, as she had “a little more to do.”

  “Tomorrow we size up the first X in the attic. Right, Mom?”

  “Absolutely!”

  Soon the lights were out. Claire spoke from her side of the room, in her own bed. “It’s interesting how Matilda refers to the false floor booby-trap as a hex, don’t you think?”

  “…I can see how calling it a hex goes with the coven’s witchy theme.”

  On that note, each was drifting into a soft pool of sub-consciousness, when a grating squeak began to intrude into Zo’s dream. Then it stopped, and the annoyance seemingly gone for good. Moments later, however, the familiar squeak started up again. Zo popped an eye open. “CLAIRE! TURN A LIGHT ON!”

  The night stand light across the way snapped on and there, standing at the bottom of Zo’s bed, illuminated by a dark lamp light, was the mannequin form. The three holes in its chest from being shot in the attic, stared back at them.

  Claire screamed. The bed covers were flying off both beds and Claire went running straight at it. “I am going to kiiiill you!” She flew in a tackle around the torso of the form and both went down.

  “Feel better now, honey?”

  Claire looked up with mania in her brown eyes. “I’m not sure, Mom. Get me a knife!”

  “I’ve got a better idea.” Zo placed a finger to her chin in thought. “Makeoverrrr!”

  The two put a pink ribbon around the neck with a big violet pinned to the side. Then, they glued glass diamonds all over the metal neck band. Deep rose nail polish was the choice of color for drawing a big heart under the bosom, with at its center, “I love Zoey and Claire.” Around its waist, a tight sequin belt with a gold Hello Kitty buckle was snuggly placed, and the hips were highlighted with turquoise eye shadow. The final question was, “Pasties or no pasties on the bosom?” to which was said, “As your daughter, I shouldn’t know you have such things in your purse.” And Zo explained she was just going to use some of the extra sequins, which she did. Then, they rolled “Millicent” out to the hallway. Finally, they went to bed for a comfortable sleep, after having locked and tied the double door handles together, of course.

  NINE

  The next morning, Claire was the first to get dressed. No sooner had she closed the bedroom door, Zo heard, “Mom! Somebody threw our best friend Millicent over the rail.”

  Zo trotted to see. Sure enough, there was poor Millicent landed prostrate on a downstairs rug. “Oh, for heaven’s sake! I liked that new and improved mannequin.”

  Claire ran down the stairs and stood the form upright. “You know? She survived the fall. Everything still looks good. Oh, oh! One glass diamond on the floor. Millicent is just fine. Not even a dent.”

  The two ate breakfast eagerly. In between bites Zo said, “Somebody doesn’t like the new and improved Millicent. We got whomever-it-was’s goat. That makes the situation a little more dangerous, I think.”

  “Mom, do you think we are over the top? Who would believe what we get ourselves into?”

  “Yes. Everyone who is anyone thinks we are way over and beyond reality.”

  “What do you think normal people would do with that seamstress form?”

  “Well, I don’t think they would have shot the heck out of it.”

  “Yeah,” agreed Claire. “They probably would have screamed and run away home.”

  “Totally sane.” Zo munched crispy toast with orange marmalade. “And, they wouldn’t have decorated that form in pasties.”

  “You got that straight. Pass the sausage, please. So what does this all mean?”

  “It means, the next time we see Millicent standing over my bed, I will invite her for a sleep over.”

  “No fear.”

  “Yes, no fear. She can sleep with you, dear.”

  “Hhheck no. We’ll put a hat on her neck and she can sleep in the corner.”

  “Deal! Up to the attic, now?”

  They stopped only a minute to pick up the sketch and then arrived in the attic. Nothing had changed. Claire looked at her phone. “It’s just after nine o’clock. We have about a half hour before everyone arrives for the hearing.”

  “We better get busy, then. So look for the proximity of this X here. And remember we have to be careful when we find it. It is probably booby-trapped.”

  They shifted some boxes around where the sketch’s X seemed to indicate. “Well, I see nothing,” Claire concluded. They walked and walked looking over the dusty floor carefully.

  Zo looked up to another tower of boxes, the top box sitting in front of a window. “Let’s move that box right there. It seems to be obstructing the light and we can use a little more light to see the floor better.”

  When the box was moved off the tower, light could penetrate through the lead-paned window. Rain started beating against the roof, and slamming against the window. “Oh my gosh, Mom! Not again! It is raining harder than before. And, how terrible for those driving here.”

  “Good. That means there will be only seriously-interested people here. Not a lot of rubber-neckers.”

  Thunder boomed. Lightning flashed and thunder boomed again. “Did you see that?” Claire pointed. “Right there—an X.”

  Zo couldn’t see hardly a thing, now that gray clouds seemed to loom right outside the window. Lightning flashed again, very bright this time. There it was—a shadow of a perfect X across the floor, made by the flash through paned glass. “Did you see that? Mark it, Claire!” Thunder boomed.

  Claire scuffed an X with her shoe.

  “Set a box on that. We need to be present for the first few minutes of people arriving. We’ll check back here a bit later.”

  Upon exiting the attic, raucous laughter and voices could be heard, as the clapper seemed to knock over and over again. Zo and Claire came right down to meet them. Twelve witches stood in the foyer somewhat bedraggled from the rain and wind, wearing rose-colored capes with hoods. A couple shook the wet out of their hair as they hung their capes in a closet. All dressed in unity with gray jeans, pink tees, and pink bows or flowers in their hair. They looked very cute together, and the mother and daughter greeted them with big smiles.

  Standing in the middle of the witches
was a man in a navy wool overcoat. One said to the man, “Mr. Kendaloaf, this is Zoey Kane and her daughter, Claire Kane.”

  “Oh,” said Zo, “are you a wizard?”

  “That is what we are hoping for,” laughed a pretty, chubby witch.

  “Actually, I’m the Coven House Witches’ lawyer.”

  “Ah,” replied Claire, “then you are here working as a wizard—in your profession.”

  “Well, we’ll see what everyone wants to call me when this hearing is over.”

  A stormy breath of air pushed the heavy front door back open. Standing there, with rainy chaos as her dramatic backdrop, was Cynthia, dressed in velvet cloak and gown. There was no hat or hood, only winter hair styled mysteriously beautiful by the weather.

  “Well, come in!” invited Judy impatiently, evidently not so impressed with beauty or threats.

  “I’ve come for the hearing,” said Cynthia, her face not cracking any expression.

  “In the library—down the hall to the right behind the stairs.” Judy pointed.

  Cynthia weaved her way through the crowd without touching anyone.

  Three witches pushed the door closed against the wind with great effort. The clapper sounded again. It was Too-Tall Deputy Jones with his hat held tightly atop his head by a chinstrap. “I’m security. I must inform everyone that the storm is expected to get worse. Perhaps people ought to consider returning home now.”

  The first thing Zo noticed was the deputy had a black eye. Next was the rather stiff leg. “Ummm, somebody dotted your eye for you,” she said, analyzing the purple and blue.

  “Lucky punch. On the other hand, the five of them are arrested and in jail. So I won.” His smile widened and caused Zo to divert her eyes. “Like I said, maybe you all should head back home.”

  “Not on your life,” said a woman who had entered behind the deputy, and pushed her way through the crowd. Two other women and a man, all wearing slacks, followed closely behind. “We are here representing the town council and there will be no going home on account of a little bluster.”