“So it is about the murder?” I asked.
Even Jezebel was frowning at her ghost friend.
“No, I mean, I didn’t see who killed them. I just saw the argument,” he said.
“What could you tell about who did it?” I asked.
“Was a vampire,” he said. “Most definitely. I know how those creatures move. Were the bodies missing blood?”
“We don’t know. We haven’t been able to examine them,” I said.
“If the bodies were missing blood, then maybe I did see those poor fellows talking to their killer. I do know that it was a vampire. I’ve been around here a long time, like I said,” he told us.
“How do you know it was an argument?” I said.
The Deadly brothers could just as easily have been chatting with Kip before we closed down the haunted house.
“There was yelling and hand gesturing. All the stuff that goes on in an argument. I know it pretty well. What my wife used to do all the time,” said Tricker.
“Like I said, we’ve been waiting to tell you. He just didn’t want to make a big deal of it,” said Jezebel, rolling her eyes.
“That’s because it isn’t a big deal,” he grumbled.
“It is a big deal! It could be vitally important,” said Pep.
Tricker blinked at her in surprise. “I suppose so,” he said, but he still sounded glum.
“We can’t thank you enough for letting us know,” I said. “Here I was thinking we wouldn’t get any news out here.”
“We ghosts are observant. You should remember that,” said Jezebel with a wink. “Come on, Tricker. These ladies have to keep following leads.”
“I hope you’ll let us know when you find something out,” he said.
“Sure will,” I told him.
I wanted to talk to the skeletons, but we had used up all our time with the ghosts. It was time to visit my dear grandmother in jail. Then we’d pay a call on the Root of All Evil. It was long past time they got a visit from us.
“Do you think it was a vampire who killed them?” Pep asked the second we were out of earshot of the ghosts.
“A supernatural as the culprit makes a lot of sense,” I said. “You’d need a lot of strength to kill both of them. Enchantments also make sense. The only thing that doesn’t make sense is Cookie having done it.”
“We have to talk to the Root, and this time it might not be so friendly,” whispered Lark.
We made our way straight to the car. There was no point going back inside. We had already had lunch, and there was only a small window of time before visiting hours at the jail would be over. Mom knew where we were going because of how many times Cookie had already called.
We had just reached our beat-up old vehicle when the soft purr of an engine made me turn around.
Right behind us was Dorian’s sleek car. He pulled up alongside and his passenger door opened. He was leaning over the steering wheel looking at us.
“Afternoon. Going somewhere?” he asked.
He wore black shades and looked cool and relaxed. His large frame fit easily into the car.
“We’re going into town to talk to Cookie. Maybe clear up what she’s doing behind bars,” I said.
Dorian nodded. “Are you stopping anywhere else while you’re in town?”
“Maybe,” said Pep. She sounded testy.
Dorian ignored her tone and said, “Want a ride?”
Before Pep or I could say anything, Lark cried, “Yes!”
She made her way to the car and climbed into the back seat. “Wow! This thing is incredible!” she gushed. “If my family becomes a bunch of criminals, can we drive a car like this?”
“If Cookie has her way, that will happen sooner than you think,” Pep grumbled, following her sister.
Before Dorian could say anything to Lark, my cousin said, “Yeah, yeah, I know your family never breaks the law.”
“Exactly,” said Dorian. I climbed into the front passenger seat.
We were off!
Belatedly I realized that maybe getting into the car with Dorian Deadly wasn’t the smartest idea. Dorian was determined to find his brothers’ murderer, that much was clear. What he thought of us was another question entirely. With Cookie in prison he might very well be lying to me. He might think we were all in on it, and he was just biding his time before springing a trap.
“Where to first?” he asked.
I realized that I was gripping the seat so tightly my knuckles hurt.
“Jail first,” I said.
“We won’t all be able to go in,” said Pep.
“There’s a coffee place nearby, isn’t there?” Dorian asked.
Over the summer a new coffee shop had opened that also sold trinkets set out on a few tables and shelves. It had only a couple of tables. None of us had been in there yet.
“We can go there and wait for Jane, assuming it’s open,” said Lark.
“Great,” said Dorian, gazing at my cousins in the rearview mirror. “Maybe you two can tell me about this town of yours over a nice cup of coffee.”
Pep shrugged as if she didn’t care.
“Anything to keep you from killing us,” said Lark cheerfully.
I rubbed my temple.
They dropped me off at the little jail. Shimmerfield was really too small for a jail; the building was a remnant of a bygone, more bustling era. This was the first time I had ever entered a jail, but nothing particularly exciting happened. At the front desk a bored-looking police officer directed me toward the back of the building.
“I don’t need an escort or anything?” I asked.
He gave me an unimpressed look. “You must be mistaking us for a larger station,” he said, and went back to looking at his computer. I shrugged and headed down the hallway.
There, in front of me after only a few steps, was Crescent Garbo.
For all she was in a jail cell, she looked awfully comfortable. There was a rug on the floor, and the one bench in the room had been covered with pillows, which she was sitting on. Her shoes were set next to the door and she was eating a plate of grapes. On the floor was a stack of books.
Outside the bars was a chair. I sat in it without a word having been exchanged. I felt oddly calm, in spite of the fact that my grandmother was crazy.
“Cookie, are you alright?” I asked her.
“Muffhghghg.”
“I’ll wait until your mouth isn’t full,” I told her. She just shrugged.
I looked around as she continued to chomp on her grapes. The jail was painted a dull gray, and I wondered if the addition of the rug and the books was just for Cookie. The space also looked clean and smelled fine. I wondered when someone had actually been in this jail before today. I had a feeling it was a long time ago.
“How many grapes can you fit in your mouth at once?” Cookie asked.
“I have no idea. Are you going to answer my question?” I asked.
“I’m doing quite well, all things considering,” she said.
“Like you got arrested for a murder that you didn’t commit?” I wondered.
“Do you know who committed the murder?” she asked.
“Not yet,” I said.
“Then how do you know it wasn’t me?” she demanded.
I rolled my eyes. “You didn’t kill the Deadly brothers.”
“So says you. The chief of police clearly thinks differently,” she said.
“And why is that? What’s his evidence?” I asked.
“I don’t know what evidence he has. He does seem to be stuck on a story from a few days ago, when I was in town and I argued with a young man while I was setting up decorations. He seems to think it was one of the Deadlys. Then I can’t account for my whereabouts when they were murdered on my own lawn, so that’s also naturally a problem,” she said.
“Of course it is. I can’t believe you’re in jail,” I muttered.
She popped another grape into her mouth.
“I wish you’d be serious for one moment,” I whispered t
o Cookie through the bars.
She looked at me in surprise, then bent her head down to look for another grape.
“Whatever are you talking about?” she said.
“We need you at home, not running around seeing what it’s like to be arrested,” I muttered. “Now I’m visiting you in jail instead of spending my time investigating the murders.”
“Come on, now,” she shot back. “You have that handsome Deadly with you. I’m sure he’s going to date one of you girls if I give you enough time.”
I squeezed my eyes shut and leaned even closer to the bars. I didn’t want the bored guard in the front office to hear any of this ridiculous conversation.
“Is that why you got yourself arrested? To muddy the waters? Dorian Deadly isn’t going to date Lark or Pep,” I scoffed.
Cookie quirked one wild eyebrow and looked down on me over her very long nose.
“I wouldn’t be so certain of that if I were you, young lady,” she said loftily.
I frowned at her but plowed on. “Whatever. We need you to stop this and come home now. Tell the police you didn’t do it!”
“I already told him that,” she said. “He arrested me anyhow.”
“You must have something up your sleeve,” I hissed.
“I have an alibi. I suppose I could tell him about that,” said Cookie.
“You have a what!” I squealed. “What were you doing in the middle of the night when they were killed, anyway?” They had been killed after the haunted house closed for the evening, when everyone had gone to bed. Except, apparently, the oldest of us. Lark would probably point out that through the course of the evening Cookie hadn’t worked as hard as we had. Of course not. She was old.
“Edmund came over for tea,” she said. “He’s ready to corroborate my story the second he’s asked.”
“Did he really, though? The police will find out if he didn’t,” I warned her.
She rolled her eyes. “Of course he really came over,” she murmured. “How I ended up being the Garbo female family member with a man in my room late at night I’ll never know. I’ll come home tomorrow. I promise.” Then she got businesslike. “Tell me what you’ve learned from the investigation so far.”
I took a long breath and released it slowly. Then I repeated the process. Once I felt slightly calmer, I started to talk. After all, there was really nothing to be done about Cookie.
“We went to see the ghosts,” I began. “One of them saw the Deadly brothers arguing with a vampire the night before they were killed. I also talked to Dorian Deadly about what his brothers were up to. He said they were interested in the opal trade, and that Clover is involved in that. There could be a connection.” I said all this as quickly and as quietly as possible. Who knew what the police officer outside would decide to listen in on?
Cookie’s face was impassive; she was gazing at the wall as I spoke. When I stopped, she nodded her head slowly. “That’s all very interesting,” she said.
“Isn’t it?” I whispered. “What do you think?”
“I think I’d like more grapes,” she said.
“Why do I bother with you?” I asked.
She smiled. “I’m your grandmother. I’m sure you’ll figure everything out.”
“We’re going to talk to the Root now,” I said.
She sighed. “Give Mirrorz my best. He hasn’t caused as much trouble lately as I was expecting. Then again, I don’t think Mirrorz thought he would have to get his criminal enterprise off the ground with His Majesty of Magic living around the corner. Funny how life works. And death, I suppose. Have you spoken with your mother yet about you and Grant dating?” she asked.
As usual when she changed the topic I got whiplash. “Um, yes. This afternoon,” I said. “She reminisced about when she and Dad started dating.”
“Did she, now?” Cookie looked a little surprised at that. “Your mother was such a rule follower. It secretly pleased me. Don’t ever tell her I said so!”
“Visiting hours are over,” said the police officer’s voice from a slight distance. He hadn’t bothered to get up to see what we were doing.
“Really, you could be passing me all sorts of contraband,” Cookie muttered. “By the way, do you have any gum?”
“No, I don’t,” I said, pushing myself up out of the chair. “Do you promise to stop this and come home tomorrow?”
“Yes, but it would be best if you didn’t tell your mother about my alibi. I think she’s probably half hoping I stay locked up forever,” she said.
“I think we’re all pretty confident that no mere jail can contain you,” I told her.
She smiled. “That’s true. Proved that in my youth, if nothing else.”
I didn’t even want to know what that meant. I said goodbye, implored her to take care of herself, and made my way outside.
Chapter Eighteen
The sky was a clear blue for once, and the sun was cheering. People were taking advantage of the nice weather to be out and about. The café where my cousins and Dorian were waiting was a couple of blocks away. As I walked, I was stopped twice by townsfolk who wanted to talk about the haunted house being closed.
Not one of them mentioned Cookie. The news of her arrest had apparently not gotten out yet.
I wondered if she’d get herself released before anyone was the wiser. That would probably be best. The people of Shimmerfield already thought the Garbos were an odd bunch. Most of the time they were grateful for the tourism the haunted house brought to town, but they also complained about the noise, the traffic, and the exhaust from the traffic. I wasn’t sure the town’s tolerance would extend to murder.
The café looked small and cozy from the outside. The window was decorated with painted orange pumpkins. Inside I could see my cousins, Pep laughing uproariously at something Dorian had said, Lark with a strange, scrunched look on her face. As I walked in, Lark was lifting her mug of tea to hide her expression.
“How’s our hardened criminal holding up?” Lark asked when she saw me. I had never seen her look so relieved, while Pep’s eyes were still sparkling in merriment.
“She’s fine. She’s holding court. You know how she is,” I said, sliding into the open seat.
“Do you want anything?” Dorian asked.
“Tea, please,” I told him. He nodded and went to get it for me.
“I like a man who knows when to let us have some girl time,” Pep mused, watching Dorian make his way to the counter.
“He’s just trying to get into Jane’s good graces,” Lark grumbled.
“Why don’t you like him?” Pep asked.
“Why do you?” Lark shot back.
Pep shrugged and didn’t respond.
“He can’t be trusted. He wasn’t on good terms with his own family,” said Lark.
“That really isn’t so hard to imagine,” Pep huffed.
“Did Cookie say anything of interest?” Lark asked, determined to change the subject from Dorian Deadly.
“She said she has an alibi for the murders. I really don’t know what she thinks she’s doing, but whatever it is, she says she has it all under control,” I said.
“She said what?” Lark nearly yelled.
Dorian was still standing at the counter, but at that he glanced in our direction.
“Of course she does,” said Pep with maddening serenity.
“Everyone okay?” asked Dorian, returning with my tea.
I took the warm mug and cradled it.
“Better and better all the time,” said Lark with a shake of her head.
We spent several minutes chatting about the weather, then Dorian asked, “Shall we make our way to the Root now?”
“Yes, let’s,” I said. My tea was in a to-go cup, so I gladly brought it with me.
What I really wanted was to go home and have a little chat with Clover. But we couldn’t go back until we had at least tried to see Mirrorz. I hoped he’d be in. The last time I’d gone to the house he hadn’t been around.
&
nbsp; “It’s this way,” I said, leading the way out of the café.
As the four of us walked toward the green, I was quietly wishing that Grant had come along. He was always good to have around when we were risking a fight. Hopefully he was hot on the trail of the killers from his own angle, and I had to be content with that.
I kept an eye on Dorian as we walked. His head swiveled from side to side, taking in all the sights. He had tried to dress more normally for this outing, putting on a gray jacket and dark washed jeans instead of the all-black look. He still stood out, though; he was too tall not to. We got several strange looks as random townsfolk passed by. Some saw me and looked as if they wanted to say something. Then they saw Dorian and thought better of it.
“You’re like our own personal person repellent,” muttered Lark.
“Am I?” Dorian hadn’t noticed the reactions.
“Yes, we’ll have you know that we’re usually a very popular family,” said Pep.
“I don’t doubt it,” murmured Dorian. “I’ll try and be less conspicuous.”
“That would be great,” said Pep.
“I thought you’d appreciate it,” said Dorian.
“We’re here,” I said.
We were now on the opposite side of the green from the sorriest looking house I had ever seen, the place where the Root had its headquarters. The entire structure looked like it was on the brink of collapse. The Old Bucket House was still in terrible condition, but there were some differences.
With the sun high overhead, I wondered how the vampires would manage to come out and talk to us. But then I noticed that since the last time we had come here someone had put black sheets up between the railing of the large, covered porch and the roof, so the porch was enclosed in darkness even on this bright day.
“As if this place couldn’t get any creepier,” muttered Lark.
“They’ve done some work out front,” I commented.
“Like what?” Dorian asked, his sharp eyes taking everything in. Whereas before I had wondered what all he was looking at, now that we were here he was laser focused.
I told him that the black drapes were new. “So is the walkway.”
Black stones led up to the walkway, glittering in the light. They were new, too.
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