“Come in,” said the vampire, ignoring my cousins. “Do you want me to park your car?”
I surveyed the empty driveway. There was no way I was handing over my keys to this guy.
“Isn’t it fine where it is?” Lark asked.
“Yes, it is,” said the vampire. “I just wanted to see if you’d hand over your keys.”
“We aren’t that foolish. Is anyone?” I asked.
“You’d be surprised,” he said. Then he turned and headed toward the house, saying, “This way, please. I was told you were coming and that I was to look out for you. I don’t want to keep Edmund waiting too long.” With that he opened the front door and showed us inside.
We had come here for brunch once, and from that visit I knew that Edmund had some beautiful rooms on this property. I was interested to see them again.
But the vampire didn’t take us to the glass room where we had shared a meal last time. Instead he turned right and led us down a hallway. As we followed him, I thought I could hear music playing. When we got closer, I knew it was a violin.
“This way,” said the vampire again, and he opened a door and bowed us into a room.
We stepped through and found ourselves in a music room. There was a grand piano in the corner, a harp, a cello, and a couple of other instruments I couldn’t immediately identify. Sitting in the middle of it all was Edmund, playing the violin. He looked up as we entered but didn’t stop playing. The three off us stood there until the door behind us closed with a snap.
Edmund played the violin beautifully. He was an old warlock, and he had clearly had been playing for a long time.
Finally the song ended, and Edmund lowered the violin and smiled at us.
“Doyle has gone to get us some refreshments. I assume you enjoy tea?” he asked.
We nodded. Tea was a staple in my diet.
“Please sit,” he said, indicating the sofa. We sat. The sofa was so large that all three of us fit on it comfortably.
“Thank you for coming on such short notice. This is a bad business. The police were here all morning. They only just left,” he explained.
I raised my eyebrows. Edmund noticed and smiled. “Did you think I wouldn’t call the police? My brother was a judge. I would never not call the proper authorities. Besides, with His Majesty of Magic so close at hand I thought there was no better resource for solving this crime,” said Edmund. “With His Majesty of Magic as lead investigator, I’m sure this case will be solved in no time.”
“What exactly has happened?” I asked.
Pep had wanted to bring a pad for taking notes, but Lark had told her not to. Given all of the supernatural secrets Edmund probably knew, she had a feeling he wouldn’t want to be recorded.
Edmund set his violin aside. He was thin and old but he carried himself with poise. If he had any of the aches and pains of old age, he didn’t show it. Then again, he probably knew every enchantment in the book for dealing with such problems.
He reached into the drawer of a desk that was next to where he was sitting and drew out an old, ornate notebook. The leather was a deep brown and the embossed letters a thick black. He held it for just a moment and then set it aside.
“Last night we found one of the vampires in my employ murdered. He had said that he was going out to the garden to work once night fell. This was not unusual for him. He spent long hours in the garden by himself. It was Timothy’s happy place.
“When he didn’t return, Joel went out to look for him. Joel has the most experience working in service, and he grew concerned. Doyle, on the other hand, wouldn’t have noticed that Timothy was missing until morning. It is likely that Lewis wouldn’t have either.
“Timothy was killed by blunt force trauma, a flower pot to the back of the head. The police have taken the flower pot away now. We do not know who killed him or why,” said Edmund.
Just then there was a gentle tap on the door and Doyle appeared carrying a tray of tea. He set it down silently and left. He was only there for a moment, but that moment gave me chance to examine his face. I saw a tightness around his mouth and a narrowing of his eyes that suggested that he was more upset than he had let on when we arrived.
“How long had Timothy been here?” I asked Edmund.
“Long enough for him to feel comfortable. I didn’t think there were any problems or dangers in the woods that he should watch out for. Certainly there was the odd super-sized spider, and maybe a mountain lion or a monster now and then, but he needn’t have concerned himself with such trivial dangers.”
We all squirmed. We had met the giant spiders. I would not have called them trivial.
We finished our tea and made ready to return to Haunted Bluff. Edmund didn’t have a lot of information for us, but the one thing that he did make clear was that we were welcome to all of the resources his household could provide. He wanted this mystery solved. A murder on his estate upset him deeply. The murder of someone in his employ must be solved immediately.
No matter the cost.
Chapter Eight
I thought we’d have some peace and quiet when we got home, but unfortunately it was not to be. The Spooky Times had been ramping up its criticism of the Garbo family for a while, but now the articles had spilled over into outright hostility.
I had taken to reading the paper every morning. News stories printed in such vivid detail had always transported me to another part of the supernatural world, but now that the attention had been turned on Haunted Bluff Mansion, I wasn’t so keen. Even so, I couldn’t stop reading.
TERROR AT THE HAUNTED HOUSE!
SHIMMERFIELD HAUNTED HOUSE FILLED WITH TERRIBLE TERROR
All is lost at the Shimmerfield Haunted House! Once known as the premier destination for supernaturals who had lost their way, it would seem that these very supernaturals are intent on bringing the haunted house down. There have been at least eight murders at the haunted house over the past year. And those are the ones we know about. It is clear that Crescent Garbo has committed at least several herself. She is too smart to get caught, though. You didn’t hear it from us!
How long can the haunted house go on in this failing and dilapidated condition, you wonder? So do we! If we were betting supernaturals—and of course we’re not!—we would say that the business can’t go on much longer! Soon it will surely fail, and when it does, who will be there to take up the mantle of that poor, sad, mansion that no one could possibly want?
Let me tell you everything that’s wrong with the place! Buckle your seatbelt and keep your thieving fingers to yourself! This is a bumpy ride!
The haunted house itself is exceedingly unpopular. In this day and age the spook has just gone out of the place. Several rooms have been “closed for repairs” for at least ten years.
That’s not all!
In that time, attendance has steadily dwindled. To the point that no one cares anymore! Not even the Garbos who work there. Several have tried to get out, but they couldn’t make it in the real world. No one is surprised about that. The real trouble at the Haunted House is leadership. There just aren’t enough smart witches there to lead the way. Now, if some warlocks were in charge, that would be a different story. Unfortunately, the warlocks are usually in charge of haunt hunting. Given that no supernaturals want to live at Haunted Bluff anymore, the haunt hunters’ job is very difficult. The fact that they are beacons of light, knights in shining armor in Shimmerfield who bring in any new supernaturals at all, is a miracle.
Let’s get to my sources.
First, there are several ghost sources who say that the Garbos are on the way out. They just have no sway anymore. No one listens to them and they will not remain in charge for much longer. This is nothing but good news for all of the supernaturals who want a safe and happy place to work.
It hasn’t been the premier haunted house in a long time, but that could change if the Garbos are gotten rid of. Let’s be honest, it’s long past time when the hard-working supernaturals should been allowe
d to stop putting up with Cookie Garbo’s nonsense.
We have an excellent solution.
You knew we would, didn’t you?
The fact of the matter is, there’s someone living at Haunted Bluff mansion who is more than capable of taking care of all of these problems. He is the most hard-working individual in the world.
Most importantly he is universally respected. This is quite a feat in this difficult supernatural world.
He defeats dragons with his bare hands and does it with a smile.
That kind of talent is hard to come by.
Now, this might be news to a lot of you. For some completely mysterious reason this isn’t something that has been publicized much.
We’re here to tell you about it now, though. As an important newspaper of historical repute, that’s our job and our aim, anyway.
The point is that His Majesty of Magic is living at Haunted Bluff.
Let’s examine this in more detail.
Here we go.
First of all, how he came to be living there is a bit of a debate. Cookie Garbo tried to kidnap him and lock him in the attic. He was too talented for that. He bested her as most have bested her recently.
The story goes even further back than that.
He was first called to Haunted Bluff after one of the many murders. It was thought that if anyone could solve the mystery, it would be him.
Mostly because it was a murder of supernaturals that happened on the Garbos’ watch.
This could not be ignored, and of course His Majesty of Magic did not ignore it, one of the many reasons he is thought to be so very smart.
To go on, he came and solved that murder in a jiffy. Then he left and there were more murders.
So he returned.
There was one last murder, but we have it on good authority that that one was really Cookie’s fault.
The Garbo are trouble. This is only the beginning.
My mother took a long, slow sip of coffee. We watched her with growing concern.
“I thought we had done well keeping the Spooky Times away from her,” Cam muttered.
We had gathered in the Magenta Room for breakfast, because Mom wanted to discuss the spindle. I nodded my head slowly. No sudden moves to draw my mom’s attention was crucial at a time like this. If we drew her eye, all might be lost.
Mom sighed deeply. “I had thought the Spooky Times had given up on being a rag. Come to find out they’re more of a rag than ever. Why do they make this stuff up?”
“It sells newspapers and it’s not all entirely false,” said Cookie.
Mom glanced sharply at her. “What part of it is true?”
“The part where there have been a lot of murders. This is becoming murder central,” Cookie said.
“There haven’t been that many murders,” my mom countered. “The Skeleton Trio was a fluke. The next one was guests and the last one happened in the driveway. This article exaggerates the numbers and makes it sound like actual members of the family are getting killed. The delivery driver was here to murder Cookie. He was therefore going to die one way or another. It was just that Sharon took care of it sooner than I would have expected.”
“Right. Of course. I forgot that the third murder was of an assassin. The Skeleton Trio wasn’t exactly a fluke, though,” said Meg.
“But they were skeletons. You can’t murder someone twice. Not even in the supernatural world. As skeletons they were already dead,” explained my mom. This whole thing was clearly upsetting her.
“We should just ignore all of it,” said Meg with a shrug.
But Mom wasn’t finished. “I’m surprised they haven’t done a story on the Root of All Evil growing right under my nose. That’s something I’m truly upset about,” she said.
We all exchanged looks. At first Mom missed it, but Kip gave the game away.
“I thought they did do something on that topic?” he said, looking at me.
I closed my eyes in consternation. Leave it to Kip to be proactively honest when just keeping quiet would have been so much better. Given that Lizzie hadn’t been honest for a day in her life, should they ever get together they’d make quite a pair.
“Is that so?” said my mom. Her voice had gone deadly calm. Even Kip didn’t fail to notice her tone. She looked around at all of us and raised her eyebrows.
“I must have missed that day. Sometimes I do check the mailbox and it’s already empty. I don’t know who had the lovely idea to start leaving the Spooky Times for us to read, but I have gotten into the habit of checking for it every morning. Are there days when someone finds it before me?” Mom asked. “Intentionally, perhaps?”
No one said anything into the silence that followed. Of course that’s exactly what we were all doing. Since no one wanted to admit it, silence was preferable. I had tried to get the Spooky Times to stop delivering to the mailbox, to no avail.
Finally Cookie saved us.
“Sometimes I spill tea or water on the floor and need something to wipe it up with. I was using Meg’s dresses, but since the paper kept coming, and it’s useless for anything else, I changed to using it as the rag that it actually is,” said Cookie.
Meg choked on the bite of egg she had just taken and glared at her mother-in-law, who shrugged.
“I’m so relieved to hear that it didn’t have anything to do with anyone wanting to keep secrets from me. What day did this article about the Root appear?” my mom asked. She shoved today’s paper away from her as she fixed Kip with a stare.
“Of course she’d go for Kip. She knows he’s the only one foolish enough to be honest with her,” Lark muttered.
“Is there any way we can keep him from telling?” I asked out of the side of my mouth.
“Throw him over the cliff and threaten to cut off his video games next time he talks?” said Lark.
“We aren’t criminals,” I muttered.
“But we could be. You’re a detective. Your mom would never catch us,” said Lark with a grin.
“I think it was three days ago,” said Kip.
“Someone get me that paper,” said Mom through gritted teeth.
“Didn’t you hear me say that I use it to wipe up spills? The paper is entirely unavailable,” said Cookie.
“Don’t even try me. If you can’t get that copy then find another,” insisted Mom. She was finished with our attempts to stonewall her.
Cookie dabbed a napkin at the sides of her mouth. “Oh, very well. I’ll go find you a copy, but there’s really no point in making yourself miserable over it.”
“If I were worried about what did and did not make me miserable, believe me, we’d have different living arrangements,” said my mom, her eyes fiery. The instant she said it I could see the regret on her face.
“I’m sorry. These are stressful times and that was uncalled for. Crescent, if you would be so kind as to find me a copy of the Root article whenever you have a minute, I would appreciate it,” said my mom.
“I’ll see to that right away,” said Cookie, standing up and making as if to leave the room. Meg tried to motion to her not to, but Cookie ignored her.
“If I put it off she’ll just track one down herself,” said Cookie as she disappeared.
“Quite right. We have to stay on top of what the Spooky Times is saying about us,” said Mom. “At least it’s not viewed as a reputable news organization that anyone in the supernatural world actually listens to.”
“I heard that the Vice Chancellor does check it on the daily basis, just in case,” said Audrey.
I felt my cousins rolling their eyes just as invisibly as I was. Why couldn’t people just keep their thoughts to themselves?
“Where did you hear that?” Meg asked.
“My cooking club friends,” said Audrey.
She had formed a club with other cooks who worked for witch families. Some of them were witches themselves and some of them were like her: human, but in on the secret.
“Any other interesting gossip you’ve h
eard?” Lark asked Audrey.
I couldn’t believe she was going over to the dark side.
“If she has, you probably don’t need to know,” said Meg to her daughter.
Audrey winked at Lark but kept quiet.
Unfortunately, it didn’t take long for Cookie to track down the proper paper for Mom. The article, which was by Old Leslie, was indeed from three days ago. The title did not inspire confidence.
“THE ROOT TAKES OVER AND PUTS DOWN ROOTS!” was the headline.
So far, Mom’s face had remained impassive, but we all knew that it was only a matter of time. We had all read what Old Leslie had written, and it was bad.
Mom started to read. Cam elbowed Kip in the side and he looked confused. Then Cam started eating as if his life depended on it. Since they had read the article, they knew very well what it contained, and they knew Mom would not be pleased when she reached the end.
Kip took his cue from my brother and started eating his breakfast as fast as he could.
When Cam wanted to, he could really eat a lot of food. Meals disappeared before his sweeping fork. In the span of the five minutes it took Mom to read the article, he and Kip had finished their meals.
While they ate as if they’d never eat again, the rest of us watched Mom’s priceless facial expressions. Her eyebrows rose and fell. She snorted several times and by minute four her mouth was hanging open in disgust.
Just as she was putting down the paper, Cam finished his sprint breakfast. “May we be excused?”
Judging from Mom’s surprised expression, she had clearly forgotten that any of us were even there, her children included. Given what the article said, she might have even forgotten that she had children.
The guys couldn’t leave fast enough. Mom excused them and they raced out of the Magenta room. They had gotten halfway to the door before Audrey barked at them to clear their plates. They came back, grabbed the plates, and hurried away.
“Let me read this article to you then, since you haven’t read it. All the other articles in the Spooky Times are by Old Leslie as well,” Mom said.
As she bent her head over the newspaper, I noticed it shaking gently in her hands. She was furious.
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