by Ellen Riggs
“The Briars? What do you mean? No one knows us there. Barely even your gran.”
Her lips twitched into a ghost of her usual smile. “Our reputation could have preceded us. Social media isn’t our friend, Ivy.”
Percy let out an eerie moan. I had no doubt his orange fluff had puffed to fill the carrier.
“Jilly, what’s really going on at the Briar Estates? You sounded more worried about your gran than a pesky swan seems to warrant.”
There was a long pause as my friend collected her thoughts. “Gran gave me nothing to go on, but I am worried. Our family used to have enemies.”
“Like the Swensons and Milloys in Clover Grove?”
She nodded. “Maybe worse.”
“Do you think an old enemy could have surfaced at the Briars?”
“It’s a secure community. But it’s also the first time Gran’s felt uneasy.”
I glanced at Keats and said, “Should we initiate evasive maneuvers?”
His paws pounded a brisk yes on the dash, so I wasted no time in taking the next exit without signaling. Edna had taught me that quick, unexpected turns were the best way to shake a tail, but it was harder in flat farm country like this. Before long, we found a lane nearly blocked by vines and drove into it. I pulled a U turn, and we settled to wait.
Just as we were about to breathe a sigh of relief, two cars shot past. The vine curtain prevented us from getting a model, let alone plates, but both looked like dark sedans. There was silence in the truck, but a buzzing energy suggested four brains at work.
We waited until Keats’ flags settled before venturing out of our hiding place. After that, Jilly used her phone to navigate a deliberately convoluted route through the country side roads. The fields were gorgeous in the magic hour before sunset but now they held the faint hint of menace.
“What should we do?” she asked at last. “If we go back to the main highway, they can find us again.”
“How about we stick to the back roads and then find a pet-friendly motel?”
Our plan had been to spoil ourselves with a nice dinner and an overnight stay in a boutique hotel but getting tailed was bad for the digestion.
“Maybe we should just keep driving,” Jilly said.
“I’d agree if we were on the highway but it’s so confusing out here and would be worse in the dark. Plus it would add hours to our commute. I say we start fresh in the morning. Besides, Percy and Keats will need a break.”
“Fair enough,” she said, and searched online till she came up with a motel that turned out to be just what we needed—low profile, but not low enough to qualify as fleabag. Within half an hour, we found the place and checked in.
“It’s not horrible,” I called to Jilly after sticking my head into the room.
She was behind me, lugging her suitcase up the stairs to the second-floor balcony. “At times like this, you know who I miss?” she said.
“Asher?” My voice was hopeful.
“Edna. Her weapons are more diverse and her regard for the law so flexible.”
I laughed as I went back to help her. “So true. Yet her sense of good versus evil is refreshingly inflexible. Gertie is the same. But for the next week we’ll need to make do with the weapons we have.” I shoved the door open and let those weapons walk into the room ahead of us. “They’re exceptional long-range danger detectors and an asset in any altercation. But I do wish I’d thrown a pig poker into the truck.”
My favorite farm tool was a long wooden pole with a hook on the end. Despite my clumsiness, I’d become adept at wielding it. Edna said recently that there was a swordswoman inside me waiting to get out. High praise indeed.
“I’m sure we’ll be fine with Keats and Percy,” Jilly said, as we heaved her suitcase onto the stand beside the bed. “They’ll let us know if something’s wrong and we’ll rely on conventional methods.”
“You mean calling in a regular emergency rather than a Zombie 911?”
“Exactly.” That was what we jokingly called a crisis better suited for our octogenarian apocalyptic army than the regular police. “Any port in a storm.”
Before unpacking, I said, “How about we run down to that little country store we passed and grab some snacks? Otherwise, we’re competing with the pets for kibble.”
“I’ll stay here with Percy,” she said, as the cat examined every inch of the room. “Like you said, they deserve some downtime.”
“Okay. Keep the door locked and your phone handy.”
“Yes, ma’am.” After a second she added, “Isn’t life strange? We could never have imagined our lives now when we worked in corporate towers.”
I stopped with my hand on the doorknob. “Back then I could predict exactly what would happen every single day with mind-numbing accuracy. Now I can’t see five minutes ahead, whether we’re on the farm or off it.” Stepping outside, I called back, “Can’t blame you for having some regrets, my friend.”
“No regrets. You?”
“I was dead inside and didn’t know it. I’d rather be running for my life with my besties any day.” I tossed her a grin. “But a short vacation from trouble would have been nice.”
“Yeah, we earned it.” Percy meowed in apparent agreement. “Get me some barbecue chips, okay? And corn chips, too.”
“Chocolate to finish?” I asked.
“For sure. I’d suggest a bottle of wine but I guess we need to stay sharp.”
“We’ll raise a glass with your gran tomorrow,” I said.
“Do not let her drink,” she said, as the door closed. “The eccentricity magnifies tenfold.”
I was still smiling when Keats stopped at the top of the stairs and went into a point. Much of the light had left the sky now but his white paw and muzzle were easy to see.
“What’s wrong, buddy?” I peered out over the railing across the parking lot. There were four other vehicles—two trucks and a couple of old sedans. I was surprised a motel so out of the way got even that much business.
Near the entrance to the lot a big dumpster sat half-shrouded in scrub bush. Beside it something stretched out on the asphalt. It looked like a man on his side, but it was hard to tell. Had someone fallen? Passed out?
“What do you make of that?” I said aloud. Keats’ tail had bristled and brushed my leg as he started skulking down the stairs. “Wait, buddy.”
Lifting my phone, I snapped a photo. Then I stretched the image so I could get a better look before walking into trouble. The picture was dark and grainy, but from what I could tell, it was human, not animal.
Texting Jilly, I started down the stairs after Keats. She came out onto the balcony and I called, “Get ready to phone for help. Someone’s fallen over there by the dumpster.”
She followed me, with Percy at her heels. “Be careful,” she called. “Slow down. You’re going to—”
I tripped. Of course, I tripped. If there was something to trip over, I always did. If there was nothing to trip over, I tripped then, too. It was one thing I could count on. This time, there was nothing but a handful of big pebbles like marbles.
“I’m okay,” I said, scrambling to my feet.
Jilly’s heels clattered on the metal stairs behind me. “Wait for me. It could be a setup. What if you lean over the body and someone grabs your leg?”
“Keats won’t let that happen,” I said, circling my truck at a run.
“Ivy, please. I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”
I did too, but I couldn’t leave anyone suffering if I could help. “Wait! What?”
By the time I reached the dumpster, the body had vanished.
If it had ever been there.
Had it been a dusk-induced optical illusion?
I might have convinced myself it was never real, were it not for Keats. He lifted his paw in another point, hesitated, and then set it back down. For once, my perceptive dog seemed confused as well. There had been something worth seeing, that much was clear from his stiffened tail. Only his muzzle moved as h
e applied eyes, ears and nose to the mystery.
Flicking on my phone light, I walked around the side of the dumpster. There was no sign anyone had been here. No broken branches, no footprints in the damp earth under the bushes. Keats’ ruff and tail settled somewhat, although his eerie blue eye scanned continuously.
The click of Jilly’s heels brought us back around to the pavement.
“Nothing?” she asked.
“I saw someone lying right here. At least I thought so, and Keats did, too. Now they’re gone.”
“Just lying here? Drunk, maybe?”
“I doubt someone that inebriated could have moved away so fast.”
“A prank, maybe. Something local kids pull on guests to spook them. They’d know an escape route.”
“Possibly, although Keats would know where they went.” I gestured toward him. “Have you ever seen this dog so baffled?”
His ears went up and down, and he spun several times, sniffing and snorting.
She shook her head. “Obviously you both saw something. What about a deer? Maybe it got hit by a car and was stunned for a second.”
I led her into a circle of light from the motel and held up my phone. “Come and look. I took a photo to see what I was getting into.”
Our heads collided and we rubbed our temples as we stared at the hazy, pixelated image. There most certainly had been something beside the dumpster.
“It looks like a middle-aged man,” Jilly said. “Balding a little, right?”
“Looks like it. Can’t see much else, except…”
“What?” she asked.
I angled the phone. “Is he wearing some kind of uniform? There’s a hint of yellow on the chest. Can you see it?”
Jilly stretched the image and then took the phone and held it up to her nose. The phone trembled as she lowered it. “It might be.”
“It’s not a police uniform,” I said. “Some kind of security company, maybe. Or a local legion.”
She stared at me and pressed her lips together for a moment. Then she said, “Let’s get out of here.”
“Leave now? We paid for the room.”
“Something’s wrong.” She gestured toward the dumpster. “Really wrong. Look at Percy.”
The cat was scraping invisible litter over the approximate spot where the man’s bald head had rested.
“Oh no! But if that man were dead, there’s no way he could have moved or been moved in the time it took me to cross the parking lot.”
Jilly started back toward the stairs at a brisk clip. “Only if there was a team. And we don’t want to stick around to find out what they were doing here.”
“Like a rural biker gang?” I snapped my fingers at the animals and followed. “It didn’t look like that kind of uniform. Country thugs would wear leather. Or at least denim.”
“Let’s grab our stuff and talk in the truck.”
I had seen Jilly move fast any number of times but tonight there were rockets under her stilettos.
I jogged up the stairs behind her. Even in work boots, I could barely keep up. “We should call the police, right?”
“I don’t want to stay here while they investigate,” she said. “We could be stuck for days. You know how these things work.” Opening the door to our room, she went inside. “Let’s call from the road. Find a pay phone.” Throwing things into her suitcase, she added, “Ivy, for once, let’s not get involved.”
I paused in the doorway with Keats and we both cocked our heads. Was that the sound of a motor receding, or my pounding heart?
“Jilly, we’re already involved,” I said, walking into the room. “Percy thinks a man died here. I should send the cops the photo, at least. It may be someone they know.”
Latching her suitcase, she swung it off the stand as if it were now as light as a feather. “I guess. But then they can trace us.”
Closing the door, I leaned against it and checked my phone again.
“That won’t be a problem,” I said. “Because the photo is gone.”
“You must have deleted it accidentally. Check the trash.”
“Gone,” I repeated, after scrolling and clicking. “Just like the body.”
She hauled her suitcase to the door. “Just like us. Let’s roll.”
Chapter Five
The twisting roads would have been tough to navigate in daylight let alone after dusk. We missed a couple of turns before realizing that Keats could do the heavy lifting as copilot. I thought his talent for sniffing out directions was confined to hill country but he seemed confident he could get us back to the main drag, albeit the slow way.
On the upside, watching for cars was easier at night. There were no headlights coming up behind us. Every so often I slowed to be sure. Both Keats and Percy were at ease, and gradually Jilly and I let down our guards, too.
“Well,” I said at last. “That was strange. And coming from us, that’s saying something.”
Jilly raised her hand and pointed. “There’s a phone booth. Looming out of the mist in the middle of nowhere.”
“Creepy,” I said. “For a creepy report. You ready?”
“Yeah. Let’s get it over with.”
We got out of the truck with Keats and crowded into the old-fashioned booth.
“I’ll try to keep it short so we can keep moving,” I said, staring out at the road. “Why is it so foggy all of a sudden?”
“Because we’ve stepped into a horror movie,” she said. “Obviously.”
We both started to laugh, stopped, and then started again.
Keats yapped a sharp reproof. “Sorry buddy, you’re right. We’re a little giddy.”
I shook off the feeling too literally and accidentally shoved Jilly out the door. That only got us laughing again.
“How about I go sit with Percy?” she said. “So you can focus.”
Things went better after that. I got through to reception at the local police department and spilled the story of the mysterious prone figure, adding all kinds of qualifiers. Maybe it was a kid playing a prank. Maybe someone had fallen and then staggered off. Or maybe a deer took a nap and got startled. I offered even more options, stopping just shy of suggesting an alien invasion.
At no point did I mention Keats’ reaction or Percy’s litterbox move.
The skepticism on the other end was to be expected, but it still made me miss Kellan. He tried hard to take me seriously no matter how implausible the story. In the end, they agreed to send someone out to the motel to look around.
Just as they asked for my contact information, I pretended the line cut out and hung up.
“That could have gone worse,” I said, getting back into the truck. “Let’s try to put some miles under the wheels.”
“Roll on,” Jilly said, letting Keats resume his navigator position.
“This is a first,” I said. “In all our years of friendship we’ve never done an overnight drive.”
“We were far too practical for that, I’m afraid.”
Back then, we believed vacations were for sissies. We’d taken exactly two, when Flordale Corp refused to cash out my credits. Then we spent our time working beside a pool, eating resort meals that couldn’t rival Jilly’s cooking on her worst day. What was the point?
I rubbed my forehead to still my spiraling thoughts. “I need to text Kellan at our next stop. Maybe he’s got an idea of who was tailing us earlier. My money’s still on the private investigator and his shady client.”
“Possibly.” Jilly waited a few minutes before continuing. “After the weirdness at the motel, I’m inclined to think it’s about me. Well, not me, per se. More likely my gran or Aunt Shelley, but they could try to get to my family through me.”
I glanced at Keats, who was giving Jilly the full force of his warm brown eye. She probably didn’t see it, but she’d have felt the comfort. Then his eerie blue eye flashed at me to suggest we were circling something important.
“Tell me more,” I said. “I’m beginning to think the roo
ts of organized crime might stretch from Clover Grove down to Wyldwood Springs and even beyond.”
“Scratch the surface anywhere and there’s rot underneath,” she said.
I eased the seat back to get more comfortable for a long night. “What would they want from your gran, though? Does she have money?”
“Yeah. It’s not cheap to live in a place like the Briar Estates,” Jilly said. “But what they really want is something she doesn’t have, as much as she might wish otherwise.”
“Color me curious.” This felt foreign territory in more ways than one. After more than a decade of loyal friendship, Jilly and I were finally exposing dark truths about our pasts, and how they’d shaped who we’d become.
“It’s complicated,” Jilly said. “I mean really complicated, not cliché complicated.”
“More complicated than my family with its generations of mysteries and enemies?”
She patted my arm and her fingers were cold even through my sleeve. “We have generations of enemies too, but with a special twist.”
I flashed her a reassuring smile and found her staring at me intently. Maybe she was evaluating whether I was ready to hear her story. “Just tell me, Jilly. You know I have an open mind.”
Now she sighed. “My mind is closed about this. Blinds down and locked up tight.”
I gestured with my right hand to the dog in her lap. His eyes were trained on Jilly but his posture was relaxed. “Keats isn’t worried, so I’m not worried.”
“Okay. Well.” She took a deep breath and then a couple more, just as she’d taught me to do in times of trouble. “There’s a chance that an old family enemy has located Gran, in what’s supposed to be a secure community, to get what she has.”
“Cash? Old jewels like your pearl earrings? A treasure map?”
“Secrets. She has insider information on generations of true eccentrics. People who think they’re… well, magical.”
“Magical? Like witches?”
“No one uses that word. At least not around me.”
I had prepared myself for all sorts of things, but not magic, understandably. Jilly sounded skeptical herself, but I was determined to live up to my promise and roll with whatever she told me. Keats still wasn’t worried, even with a word like “witches” floating around the cab of the truck.