Lightning flashed outside the windows, and deafening thunder clapped a moment later. I jumped, Maple whimpered, and even Iggy’s flames dimmed for a moment.
I gulped. I felt safe with Hank and my friends beside me, plus it was comforting to know Officer Flint, Jolene, and Daisy were on the case. But still—a shiver ran down my spine at the thought that someone in this room had probably stabbed our tour guide to death. I waggled my brows. “The sooner we figure out who it is, the sooner we know who to be creeped out around…”
Hank pulled his lips to the side. “Don’t you mean, the sooner we can have them arrested?”
I nodded. “That, too.”
Maple, who’d been wringing her hands under her chin, dropped her arms to her sides and gave a serious nod. “You’re right, Imogen. Okay—Officer Maple on the case.”
Iggy and I exchanged worried looks.
My little flame raised a fiery hand to the side of his mouth. “I was hoping Officer Maple had retired.”
I nodded, my eyes wide. My soft-spoken friend had a bad cop persona that was frightening not only to the suspect we were questioning, but to Iggy and me as well.
“Uh, you know, why don’t we all spread out.” I nodded even as Maple looked unconvinced. “We’ll see if we can overhear anything useful before we unleash Officer Maple and her interrogation tactics.”
Wiley grabbed her shoulders from behind and mouthed, “Thank you,” over the top of her head. She spun around to look at him, and he plastered on a sweet smile. “I think that’s a great idea. Why don’t we start over there in the corner with all the treasure chests and that older couple.”
“Okay.” Maple let herself be led away, while Cat continued to gnaw at Wiley’s earlobe.
Kenta grinned and saluted. “We’ll wander over near that lady in the headscarf.” He and Sam walked off hand in hand.
Hank grinned down at me. “Alright, where are we headed?”
I jerked my head toward the guy with the tattoos up his hand and arm. Hank turned his head, but I hissed, “Don’t look!”
He snapped his gaze back to my face, fighting a smile.
I leaned closer, Iggy dangling from my hand, and lowered my voice. “That guy seemed like he was taking notes the whole time Tim was talking.”
Hank raised a thick brow and looked down his big nose at me. “Now that you mention it, I actually saw him copying some of Tim’s gestures, too.”
“Ooh—you think he’s a crazed groupie?” Iggy peeked out of his lantern at us, warming up my thigh with his flames.
“Let’s find out.”
We wandered toward the front of the store, heading down one of the aisles. Shelves towered above us, littered in dusty antiques. The guy with the tattoos stood with his back against a golden birdcage with a stuffed parrot inside. He nibbled at his thumb tip, dark eyes glazed, as though he was lost in thought.
“Hi there.”
He jumped and looked up, startled. “Oh. Hey.” He blinked his eyes and shook his head, his thick curls bouncing. “Oh.” His eyes grew wide as he recognized us. “You’re the prince and—”
I waved it off. “Yep, but tonight we’re just Hank and Imogen.”
“And Iggy,” my flame pointedly reminded me.
“Oh—right.” The guy looked confused.
“What’s your name?”
He shook himself. “Sorry—I’m Sid. Sid Ali.” He nodded.
I blew out a breath and knitted my brows together. “Shame about Tim, huh? He seemed like a nice guy.”
“He was.” Sid frowned, his gaze glazing over again. “I don’t know who could’ve done that to him.”
Hank and I exchanged looks and he cleared his throat. “You knew Tim then?”
Sid looked past us, toward the black curtain at the back, then edged closer and lowered his voice. “Since Bryan’s gone, I guess there’s no harm in telling you. Tim was training me.”
I lifted a brow. “For what?”
“To give tours. I’ve been shadowing him for weeks now. I’m a theater student; it’s the perfect night job.” He shrugged. “Tim wanted me to keep it a secret from Bryan though, so if you don’t mind, keep it quiet.”
Hank nodded. “Of course—we’ll be discreet.”
I nodded too, confused. Why would he want to keep it a secret from his business partner? Was Tim considering branching out on his own? Why now after twenty years, though? Had this been what Bryan and Tim had been arguing about?
“You said Tim was a nice guy?” Hank gave Sid a thoughtful look. “Can you think of anyone who would’ve wanted to hurt him?”
The young guy crossed his arms and scoffed. “Not at all! Tim was the kind of guy who would give you the shirt off his back—anyone who knew him would say that, I’m sure.”
Hank raised a brow. “What about Bryan?”
“Eh.” Sid grimaced for a moment, tipping his head side to side. “Bryan’s an odd guy, seems to mostly keep to himself. Not a real people person.” He shrugged. “But Tim saw the good in him. Seems like they’ve been friends forever.”
I nodded. “Can you think of anything unusual that might have led to this?”
He shrugged and shook his head—then stopped abruptly. “Well—actually, now that you mention it, something unusual did happen, though I don’t know that it’s related to poor Tim’s death.”
I held my breath.
Sid looked earnestly from me to Hank. “That story—the one about Mr. Havillard and the stabbing and that dagger? I’ve shadowed him on dozens of tours, and he’s never told that one before.”
My voice came out a little squeaky. “And then he got stabbed by a dagger that looked just like the one he’d described?”
Sid bit his thumb again and nodded.
I shot Hank a wide-eyed look. That was weird. Almost uncanny. Were we actually dealing with a supernatural murderer?
5
Suspects
Hank, Iggy, and I left Sid and moved closer to the young couple who looked about Hank’s and my age. I grabbed a leather-bound book off the shelf and pretended to read it, while eavesdropping on the pair in the corner.
The guy, blond and bearded, stood with his arm around the dark-haired young woman. She stood with her arms crossed and jaw set, staring with narrowed eyes out the window into the dark, rainy street. She had a distinctive star-shaped birthmark on her cheek. They muttered to each other, too quiet for me to overhear.
“Loving the Dead: The Pros and Cons of Necrophilia and Other—”
“Iggy!” I looked down wide-eyed at him and hissed, “What are you saying?”
He pointed at the book in my hands. “I didn’t know you were into that kind of thing.”
I closed it, glanced at the cover, and then felt my cheeks grow hot. Hank bit his lip to keep from chuckling. I shot him a hard look. “Don’t encourage him.”
“I don’t know, princey—looks like the magic is fading. You’re just too alive for Imogen.”
I slammed the shutter on the lantern closed as the couple turned their heads and looked us up and down, frowning. Iggy’s muffled cackles filled the awkward silence. I huffed, my face and neck burning with embarrassment.
Hank gently took the book from me. “Maybe we should get this for Francis and Rhonda.”
That got a chuckle out of me. “I don’t want to encourage them either. Plus, technically, Francis is undead.”
As I glanced up, I caught the couple still eyeing us. In a weird way, Iggy’s little outburst had actually given us an in to striking up conversation. I grabbed Hank’s hand and pulled him over to the window.
“Sorry if we were disturbing you.” I held up the black lantern. “My flame is a little mouthy sometimes.”
The blond guy waved it off. “No worries.”
They turned, as if to end our conversation, but I stepped closer, a hand on my chest. “I’m Imogen—this is Hank. Yes—the Imogen and Hank.” I tried to laugh it off, but the young lady looked less than impressed, and the guy just curled his li
p.
“’Kay.”
I licked my lips and glanced at Hank for help. He bowed his head. “I always like to meet my subjects—especially those who’ve been through a traumatic event. What are your names?”
“Oh, uh.” The guy blinked rapidly behind his small glasses. “I’m Christopher Brighton, and this is my wife.”
She nodded, one brow arched. “Yolanda.”
“Too bad about the guide, huh?” I winced. “I was really enjoying the tour before he—”
Yolanda lifted her chin, her nostrils flared. “He should really have gotten his facts straight.”
Her husband put his hands on her shoulders, but she set her jaw. “Excuse me, but I’m upset. I don’t feel like talking right now.” With that, she looked back out the window, and her husband shrugged at us.
Hank and I exchanged looks. Okay, then.
“Smooth.” Iggy’s little muffled voice floated up from the lantern. I reached down and unshuttered it, his warm golden light flooding the space as we moved back toward the center of the store.
“She seemed really upset.”
Hank dipped his mouth closer to my ear. “But about what? She seemed more angry at Tim than upset over his death.”
I nodded. “Agreed. But if they’re going to be so tight-lipped, we won’t be able to figure out why they might have a motive.”
Iggy shook a fiery fist. “If only the murderers would make it easier to catch them!”
I grinned. “Right?”
We meandered through the cluttered shop, lit only by Iggy’s lantern and a few dozen guttering candles, and rejoined Maple, Wiley, and Cat near a collection of treasure chests.
“Find out anything good?”
Maple shot me an exasperated look, and Wiley flashed his eyes. He jerked his head toward the old couple. The woman—her husband had called her Bethusa—sat on a large treasure chest, rubbing her lower back and scowling. Her husband bustled over with a handful of rags.
“That’s Walter and Bethusa Hubble.” Wiley raised his brows. “And they are not happy.”
Maple rolled her eyes. “We got to hear all about their bunions and the way the rain makes their knees ache and their ungrateful grandchildren.” She threw her hands up. “I’m exhausted.”
I chuckled. “Wow. If even Maple’s frustrated, they must be bad.” My sweet friend always tried to see the best in people. I turned to Hank. “Ready to give it a shot?”
Wiley sniffed. “Good luck.” Even Cat, who hung limp around his neck, seemed worn out by the ordeal. He glanced down at Hank’s hand as we passed each other. “Whatcha reading?”
Hank looked down, realized he was still carrying the necrophilia book, and turned bright red. He shoved it away on the nearest shelf like it was cursed. “Nothing!”
Wiley shot him a puzzled look as Iggy burst into laughter.
Bethusa sat with one leg crossed over the other and roughly wiped at the thick soles of her shoes.
Her husband stood ready with another clean rag for her. “Forget wanting our money back—I think we should sue!”
They looked up as Hank and I approached. He cocked his head. “Excuse me, did you step in something?”
The white-haired man shook a finger at him. “If you think we’re going to pay to replace the carpet in here, you’re mistaken, young man.”
I frowned as I caught sight of the woman’s dirty rag—stained a reddish brown. “Hold on—is that blood?”
Bethusa shrugged. “I slipped in something—nearly broke another hip! It’s why we decided to leave the tour and demand a refund.”
“Um.” Hank and I exchanged wide-eyed looks. “Ma’am, I think that’s blood you stepped in.”
Hank drew his wand. “I’m sorry, but I must insist you stop cleaning it.” He magically produced a clear bag and held it out for her to drop the rag in.
She rolled her eyes but complied. “Oh, for sea’s sake.” She pressed her thin lips together.
Hank nodded. “Thank you—we need to keep this as evidence for the police.”
“Oh, great.” She threw her hands up and looked to her husband. “Now we’re evidence.”
Yeah—I could see why these two had worn on Maple’s nerves. Hank apologized again, and we moved off.
I grabbed his arm. “Bethusa said she slipped in the blood and that’s why they decided to leave the tour.” I raised my brows at Hank. “But that was before Tim got stabbed. Why would there already be blood on the ground?”
Hank’s brows knitted together. “Good question. Maybe the attacker is injured and bleeding?” He glanced around the shop at our suspects.
Iggy piped up. “Or the ghost was injured. Oooohh!” He made a spooky noise.
We moved toward the display case where Kenta, Sam, Maple, and Wiley stood.
“Hey, guys!” I slid an arm around Sam’s shoulders. “Feeling warmer?”
He nodded, his glasses slipping down his nose. “Much, thank you.”
They all stared down at the mishmash of items in the display case. “What are we looking at?”
Kenta wagged his brows. “More like what aren’t we looking at.” He pointed at an empty space on the shelf that displayed swords and knives. “I bet it was there.”
Wiley let out a low whistle.
Kenta turned to Hank and me. “We talked to the lady in the head scarf, Brenda Belay.”
I nodded. “The one who kept rubbing her necklace.”
Kenta nodded. “Turns out, she’s an aspiring necromancer—came on the tour to try to raise the dead.”
I curled my lip. “Oh, great.”
Kenta chuckled and lowered his voice. “Between you and me, she seems pretty out there. I don’t think she was successful, but she did mention something interesting.” He pointed again at the case. “She says she recognized the dagger, the one with the jewels on the hilt that was used to stab our tour guide. She claims it was in the display case when she bought her ticket.”
Hank frowned. “You said she was out there—can we be sure?”
Maple bit her lip. “There is a space where something’s missing.”
Kenta nodded. “And she claims she asked to look at it. They actually took it out and let her hold it. Brenda says she was looking for a new athame, and she remembers being drawn to the jewels on the hilt.”
I knew from previous experience that necromancers used an athame, or ceremonial blade, in their rituals.
Hank nodded, thoughtful. “It was a distinctive weapon.”
I glanced around the shop. “One of these people could have stolen it when they bought their tickets and then stabbed Tim in the dark.”
Sam huddled closer to me, my arm still around his shoulders. “But why would sssomeone want to hurt Tim?”
Hank nodded. “It’s a good question, Sam.”
We all turned back to the display case, as if it might hold the answer. My eyes drifted to a stack of papers on top of the glass counter, a heavy red rock resting on top as a paperweight. I looked around, then lifted the rock and pulled out a few envelopes and letters.
The first was addressed to Tim Mulaney from the Bank of Bijou. My friends gathered closer as I hastily unfolded the parchment inside. Hank scanned the letter over my shoulder. “Tim’s been approved for a business loan for a new enterprise he’s calling Tunnels of Terror.”
My friends and I exchanged intrigued looks before I dove into the rest of the mail. “There’s also a letter from a lawyer and an unopened one from a doctor’s office—all addressed to Tim.”
“Well, what are you waiting for?” Iggy piped up. “Get snooping.”
I was sliding my finger into the envelope from the lawyer when the lock to the back door clicked open.
“Eek!” Maple nibbled her fingers.
I froze as the hinges to the back door creaked open and footsteps thudded on the floor, moving closer to the black curtain that divided the shop.
Wiley shot a long arm out, snatched the mail from me, and slid it under the rock right befo
re the curtain moved and Officer Flint, Daisy, Jolene, and Bryan stepped back inside. I snatched up a book from a stack on the counter and opened it to a random page. Unlike the others on the shelves, this book was new, a paperback with a glossy cover.
Maple pointed at a brooch and began loudly telling Wiley how much she wanted it, and the rest of our party all looked in opposite directions from each other, hands in pockets.
Jolene took us in and smirked. All gathered at the display and trying to act nonchalant; I was sure we looked super guilty.
“Psst.”
I glanced down at Iggy.
“Whistle—it’ll make you look more innocent.” He winked.
I shook my head at him, and my little flame cackled.
Officer Flint cleared his throat, and the other members of the tour drifted closer. “We’ve examined the crime scene and left a team down there to collect evidence.” He nodded, grim. “It’s our belief that Tim was murdered by someone in this room.”
6
The Book
“W-what?!” Bethusa, the older lady, scoffed. “How could that be?”
Jolene, hands in her pockets, shrugged. “I spoke with some sewer rats.” She raised her dark brows. “Filthy mouths, let me tell ya. But they confirmed that no one else entered or left the tunnels aside from you lot on the tour.”
Officer Flint held up a tiny glass vial in his gloved hand. “Does anyone recognize this? We found quite a few of them scattered down in the tunnels.”
I nodded. “I saw Tim drinking blue potion from them.”
Bryan took his spot on the stool behind the counter. “Tim said they were vitamins.”
Hank nodded. “That makes sense. Tim mentioned feeling under the weather.”
I glanced at the stack of mail I’d been snooping through. Did that have anything to do with the letter from the doctor?
Officer Flint and Jolene exchanged a look, then turned to face the rest of us. The cop cleared his throat. “We’ll be conducting interviews with all of you.” He ruffled his dog’s furry head. “My partner Daisy is enchanted to sniff out lies, so I suggest you be truthful with us.”
Cold Cases and Haunted Places Page 3