Rose was already asleep on my orange couch. I was desperately tired, and fell into bed with barely the energy to change into my nightclothes.
For once I slept through the night and did not dream.
Chapter Fourteen
Rose woke me the next morning by pawing at my face. As I breathed in and out while I slept, a bit of hair waved from side to side, and Rose decided it would be an excellent idea to play with it.
At first I picked her up and moved her away from me, keeping my eyes closed in hopes of falling back to sleep.
Unfortunately, she came back.
The third time I had to do it I gave up and opened my eyes a slit to glare at the cat.
“Can’t you just let me sleep in?” I said.
“I thought you had a busy day coming up. I didn’t think you’d want to sleep in,” said Rose.
“How very thoughtful of you,” I grouched.
“I just wanted breakfast,” said the cat.
“Couldn’t you have gotten someone else to give it to you?” I asked.
“I could have, but where’s the fun in that?” she said. “What’s on the agenda for today, anyhow?”
“Have to go see Edmund. He needs to know what his brother said about the murder. I also have to interview the other vampires there. It’s very likely that one of them is a killer,” I said.
“Didn’t you see one of them yesterday?” Rose asked.
“I did. He was nice enough. He looked like a bit of trouble, though,” I said. “His shirt wasn’t tucked in and he didn’t look very presentable in general. There’s nothing wrong with that in some contexts, but when you’re working in service in a fancy house, it’s not a good sign. The other vampires at Edmund’s are all nicely put together. In fact, I do wonder what the other two think of Doyle’s lack of presentation.”
“It probably annoys them,” said Rose.
“That’s probably true,” I said.
The first thing I needed to do before the day got going was to take a shower. One plus side of my exile to the attic was that the bathroom I used was mine alone.
Except for maybe the stray ghost from time to time.
I liked the privacy.
I showered in the luxury of solitary spaciousness, then hurried back to my room. It was always a cold walk after I washed my hair. When Grant had first arrived, I had run into him in this very corridor and thought he was rude and silent on that occasion. Yes, I also thought he was gorgeous. Everybody knew that. There was no point in disputing it.
Still, my attitude then was that I wasn’t going to let some stranger come into my house and take over. My grandmother loved him, but her standards were low. She’d love any guy who showed up without a wedding ring on his finger. If two more ever came along, she’d try to marry Lark and Pep off as well. She was probably secretly delighted that Grant and I were going on a date. Yes, I hadn’t told her as much, but I was certain she knew.
While I mused about all of this, I was also busy getting ready for the day.
I decided that I needed to look serious today. Besides my investigative work, I was going on a date, and I wasn’t sure I’d have time to change before Grant picked me up. Therefore, my outfit had to be versatile.
I chose black jeans with black ankle boots, added a gray, long-sleeved T-shirt with sparkles around the collar, and covered the T-shirt with a darker gray cardigan. For my date I could take off the cardigan. Over the cardigan I put a black blazer.
In the end I felt more together than I had in months. My outfit was casual and no-nonsense. It would look like I had put some effort into it, but the cardigan said that I hadn’t put too much.
Finished dressing, I hurried down to breakfast. It wasn’t very late, maybe around eight o’clock. Mom and Aunt Meg would probably still be around, but there was a good chance that nobody else would be awake yet. Luckily for them, they did not have a pet cat.
I had guessed correctly. When I entered the kitchen my mother and Meg were sitting at the island eating breakfast. Audrey wasn’t there, but that wasn’t unusual. She liked to make breakfast and then go do chores in the garden after she had laid out whatever food she was offering that day.
I had just come through the kitchen door and it had shut behind me when it slammed into my back and shoved me forward.
“Sorry. Didn’t see you there,” said Cookie, breezing in like she owned the place.
“I came in right in front of you. How did you not see me?” I asked.
“I only saw your feet,” said Cookie.
“My feet should have been enough to tell you not to run into me,” I pointed out.
“I don’t talk to feet,” said Cookie.
She made her way over to the island and started examining the breakfast options. As usual, there were eggs and bacon, plus an array of muffins and cereals. Cookie bypassed all of that for the yogurt and fruit.
Cookie was a light eater. In the evening her explanation was that calories got in the way of her wine absorption. I could never tell if she was serious or just saying it to annoy my mother. There was a good chance it was both.
At the moment, Cookie was giving my mother a molten glare. “What did you do with the greenhouse?”
“I used an enchantment to cover it,” said Mom. “We can’t very well have that spindle visible out there. It’s a death symbol.”
“Are you any further in discovering who left it?” I asked.
“I’m looking into it. I told Grant about it. He had already found it in the greenhouse by the time I saw him and mentioned it. He was very concerned. He was worried about who exactly it was left for. He was not convinced that it was for Cookie.”
“Who else would it have been left for?”
“Any number of us. Someone has it out for the Garbos. There’s been a negative article about us in the Spooky Times every day for a while now,” said Meg.
“We’re glad you’re well out of it, Jane. At least Edmund has something for you to do that isn’t here at the haunted house,” said my mom.
“How am I out of it? I just asked Jefferson Judge last night to look into who Old Leslie was. He had no idea. He says no one knows who the writer of the articles is,” I said.
“The Fudge is publishing a newspaper filled with articles by an unknown writer? Is that ethically responsible?” said Meg. “Or believable?”
“I think the question you should be asking is, ‘Does he care?’ And I think the answer is no,” offered Cookie cheerily.
“You say that even Jeff doesn’t know who the writer is? Do you trust him?” Meg asked me.
“I trust him to tell me the truth about this topic, at least. He said he doesn’t know and I believe him. Why would he lie? His only interest is the truth and upholding the law. He said that most of the time he doesn’t even read the Spooky Times,” I said.
“I bet he’s lying about that. The stories are riveting,” said Meg into her cup of coffee.
“Don’t encourage her,” groaned my mom.
Meg gave her an impish grin.
“How is that encouraging me?” I said.
My mom glanced at me. “If you have any spare time over the next couple of days, I still need your help with something.”
She had now mentioned this fact several times, without offering any specifics.
“It’ll have to be tomorrow. I have a lot to do today,” I said.
“Anything to do with Down Below?” she asked.
I carefully fixed my breakfast by placing my muffin on a plate. I gave it a few seconds before I responded. I had to be careful; I was swimming in dangerous waters and I didn’t want to founder.
“I met with Jefferson last night. He said all was well. I don’t have a meeting with The Fudge scheduled, so that’s about it for now,” I said.
“You are trying to find out who Old Leslie is, though?” pressed my mom.
I grimaced at my muffin. “Yes, I would like to do that. Especially given the things he’s saying about the mansion.”
“I’m sure
you have a busy day. You should probably get going,” said Cookie, waving her hand at me.
I was a bit surprised. She didn’t usually dismiss me like that. Usually she liked to keep us around to torment for as long as possible. You know, keep your friends close and your enemies closer kind of thing.
“Is it okay if I take the car to Edmund’s?” I asked.
“Of course. We’re just going to be working on the haunted house today. We won’t need it,” said Meg.
“Are you going to need it this afternoon?” my mom asked.
“I don’t think so,” I said. I took my muffin over next to Cookie and sat down.
We finished breakfast in silence. It wasn’t until I had taken the last bite of my muffin that I realized I had forgotten something.
“I should go check and see if there was a Spooky Times this morning,” I said.
“Don’t bother. I already did,” said Mom.
I swallowed hard. Given her tone, it couldn’t possibly be good, and that turned out to be true.
Mom pulled the Spooky Times out from under the island and spread it in front of me. It was folded. Meg looked serious, while Cookie intentionally looked away as I took in today’s edition.
I pored over the newspaper page by page until I found the article about Haunted Bluff. After I finished reading it I scanned it several more times, just to be sure I’d read all the words right.
I really couldn’t believe my eyes.
Everyone else had left the kitchen by the time I was done, so there was nobody left to rant at or complain to. I only knew that I really had to find out who Old Leslie was, the sooner the better.
As usual, that was the byline on today’s article.
I had things to do all day, though, and I was determined not to let myself be dragged off track. I’d get to Old Leslie in due time . . . whoever Old Leslie turned out to be.
I gathered my things and headed for the car, intending to head over to Edmunds to interview the vampires. Before I left I spared a quick glance out toward the greenhouse.
It was now covered in a vast cloak. It looked incredibly strange, but I supposed it was better than prying eyes seeing the brightly spinning spindle inside.
Outside, the air was cool but not cold. The grass in the driveway was browning and dying as the weather changed. The faint smell of salt that always hung in the air was stronger when the wind was blowing. Today it came with a chill.
I tied my hair down and hurried to the car. By the time I got in my hands were cold, reminding me that it would be several months before I could go outside without gloves again.
The drive to Edmund’s went by fast. As I drove I thought about everything that had happened the past couple of days. The spindle was worrisome, but there was some comfort in the fact that my mother and Meg were working on it. They were both capable witches. Then again, the fact that Cookie was just as likely to steer them in the wrong direction as the right one wasn’t ideal.
Then there was the murder at Edmund’s. It was almost as if my family wanted me to investigate it to get me out of the mansion. Why that might be I couldn’t even guess at this point, but I was at least sure it didn’t have anything to do with Grant. My mother didn’t even seem to realize we were dating.
Well, starting to date. Well, going on dates.
Whatever we were doing.
My mother was concerned with whether I was working with Down Below, and that was about it. Of course I was working with Down Below. In fact, I had started to think that I might even have to go down there to find out who Old Leslie was. Hopefully Peter wouldn’t be the one to show me around next time. He wasn’t very good at it.
Finally, there was the murder at Edmund’s itself. One of Edmund’s own vampires had been killed, and nobody there was talking much about it; even Edmund had had very little to say. Grant was doing the official investigation, and neither he nor I wanted to talk about it with the other one. The fact that he had been called to the crime scene first still rankled.
I hoped that my visit to Edmund this morning would help me make some progress on the case. I needed to know a lot more about what was going on at the old warlock’s hidden home, and the only way for me to do that was to go there, talk to everyone, and maybe have a look around. Luckily, Edmund seemed to be a willing participant in my investigation. It was about time someone was.
I sighed and felt my fingers relax on the steering wheel. They were only now starting to warm up a bit.
Edmund had placed an awful lot of tricks and turns in the path of anyone who wanted to reach his place, but I had visited enough times by now that the special terrain was becoming familiar. I had no problem getting there.
I pulled into the driveway and parked. Before I could even get out of the car, a vampire opened the front door. This time it wasn’t Doyle, the young vampire whom Lark thought was so cute.
“Good morning. My name is Joel. I am to escort you to the study. There we can chat,” said the vampire as I reached him. He was clearly the employee with all the experience.
“Were you expecting me?” I asked.
“Yes. Although we were expecting you to arrive earlier. We may be a bit spoiled from the early hours our boss keeps,” he said.
“Why were you expecting me at all?” I said.
He ushered me into the dark house and answered as he walked. “Our boss said that you would want to interview us. He says you’re investigating what happened to Timothy. It is not my place to question his orders. I know that the police are also looking into the murder. I’m not concerned that multiple investigations are taking place. The sooner we find out what happened to Timothy, the safer I’ll feel,” he explained.
“I appreciate your willingness to talk to me. That isn’t always the case with people who are swept up into a murder investigation,” I said carefully.
I didn’t want to say the word “suspect,” obviously. That left Joel to be the first one to use that term. “I am eager to eliminate myself from the suspect pool,” he said. “It does seem most likely that one of us murdered our own, hard as that is for me to believe. Any help I can provide, I will.”
By this time we had reached the study, where a silver tea tray was already waiting for us. As we entered the room I took an appreciative look at the view through the windows, which overlooked the edge of the forest. Edmund had picked a beautiful spot for his home.
We settled comfortably into plush chairs that let us face each other. “When we finish our discussion,” said Joel, “I’ll go get Lewis. I believe he’s the only vampire here whom you haven’t yet spoken to.”
I took my time taking my first sip of tea. First of all it was very good, with a flavor like nothing I had ever tasted before—a mix of spices and lemon, perhaps. It wasn’t a combination I would have chosen myself, but the proportions were perfectly balanced. In getting to know Edmund, I was starting to get a sense of a refined magical world that I had so far had no part in.
While I was appreciating the tea, I was careful to assess my companion. Joel was an older vampire, maybe in his sixties, roughly the same age as Edmund if not a bit older. My immediate reaction was to like him. He was relaxed and refined. He had an air that said he had seen everything and that very little fazed him anymore. Still, the murder of his colleague was not one of those things he just brushed off. When he’d spoken about Timothy he’d been visibly upset.
As anyone would be when a colleague was murdered, I told myself. But I also told myself that I couldn’t tell whether it was an act or not. Given Joel’s refinement, reading his facial expressions was difficult. He barely made any.
“How long have you worked here?” I asked.
“Not very long, actually. I was formerly in the employ of vampires out West. That employment ended when I decided to retire, but my retirement didn’t last long. I was terribly bored. I have traveled the world many times already, so I told friends I was looking for something to do. I didn’t want to go back out West; I wanted excitement and something dif
ferent. Everyone told me to come here,” he said.
“To Edmund’s?” I asked, trying to hide my surprise.
“To Shimmerfield,” was the reply.
Now I really was surprised. Joel must have seen the look on my face, because he smiled. He was sitting back in his chair, but he wasn’t relaxed, and I was the only one drinking tea. Part of me thought I should stop, but another part of me thought the tea was really good, and I ought to enjoy it while I could.
“Yes,” he said, “as you may know, Shimmerfield has become rather a hotbed of supernatural activity. It is especially famous for having Haunted Bluff’s haunted house, of course, but now there are other things as well.”
“Like the Root of All Evil,” I supplied.
He inclined his head. “I have no interest in battles. It has never been my way. Still, the part of me that wanted to be close to the action was intrigued. Given how old I am, it’s hard these days to find anything that interests me. Hearing about Shimmerfield was one of the first such things that came along when I got bored with retirement. It became a question of where I could work, and I briefly considered applying to work at the haunted house itself. But in the end I had to admit to myself that I had no use for such things. I don’t believe such expressions of emotion are useful, including people intentionally scaring themselves. Such foolishness really makes no sense to me.”
“That must have left you with very few options,” I said.
“You are correct. If I wanted to work for someone in the town of Shimmerfield, there were only a couple of options I could even consider. When push came to shove, I realized that there was really only one,” he said.
“And Edmund was open to the idea?” I asked.
I was thinking back to when I first met Edmund and his brother. I had been told that Edmund took in vampires to live with him from time to time. He found the companionship useful. His brother supported the idea of Edmund not living alone out here, plus I had a feeling that Edmund liked to lecture both his visitors and his employees. You can’t very well lecture yourself.
“He was open to the idea,” said Joel. “As you may know, he had several vampires employed here already, and one more meant very little to him. Now that I’m here, I don’t know what he would say about my service, but I hope he’d say that I’m a capable employee. I would say that I came here with a lot more experience than the rest.”
Spooky Spindle Page 10