Hexes and X's (Z&C Mysteries, #3) (16 page)

Claire sat, just admiring Slobber. “You know, you are a pretty great guy.”

Slobber went silent for a moment. Then, without even looking
at her, he blew out the marshmallows and let the wire lean her direction. “Want a burnt marshmallow?”

“Don’t mind if I do.”

“Marry up with me.”

“Huh?”

“Marry up with me, Claire. I will make you a good husband.”

“Well now, Slobber, let me lick my teeth a second on that. Okay, I…”

“OKAY?! You said okay!”

“Let me finish my sentence. Okay, I thought it over…”

“And???”

Claire faced Slobber
, looked him in the eyes and took a lean-muscled hand between both of hers. “I’m not saying I will…, but I’m not saying I won’t. I’ll keep it to the back of my mind. I’ll be leaving, going back home. You forget about me for a while and be looking for somebody else for a wife. I’m going to see how life treats me. In no longer than two years, I will let you know one way or the other my solid answer. It is too soon for me now. It has to be that way.”

Slobber’s knee was moving up and down rapidly with excited anticipation. “I accept! I accept! Can I put my arm around you? Can I give you a kiss oncet in a while, when no one is looking? Especially Mom?”

“Let’s be happy holding hands right now and then we’ll see.”

“Okay, but remember I said I was a good kisser. Look, my teeth are all pretty now.”

Claire’s heart warmed and she felt her eyes mist up, because Slobber really was dear, and a great guy. And, she had a love for him just for that.

TWENTY-FOUR

The rain and wind continued to attack the house, and by the early morning it had slowed into heavy, drizzly mists of fog. It was like looking through Halloween spider-webbing. Members of the town’s council and coven sisters actually worked politely together, making a hearty breakfast: country potatoes, ham and sausage, eggs, toast and rhubarb jam, hot cinnamon rolls, oatmeal, coffee, hot chocolate, milk and orange juice.

“Anybody want a steak?” yelled a cook. Two hands went up.

“Hey!” yelled Judy at the front door window. “Two men on horses and a pack mule are tying up out front.”

The visitors took their fire department slickers and rubber boots off at the front door, then came walking into the kitchen, all smiles. “Just in time for breakfast, I see,” said one.

“Smells good,” said the other, hair all mussed from his removed hat.

“What’s the fire department doing here on horses?” asked Kendaloaf.

“We are search and rescue. No car could make it. I see that everyone is okay, and weathered out that storm—a category 1, huh?”

Judge Huff said, “You got any body bags, boys?”

A serious look came over both firemen. “How many you lookin’ at, Judge?” the first asked as he rubbed his red beard-stubble in concern.

“Four!”

“What? Four bodies? In this nice gathering of townspeople?” he went on to say. “What—was it the storm? You guys had a hard time here?”

“It was cold-blooded murder,” informed the judge.

They were obviously taken aback by the news. “Okay, then who did it?”

“An out-of-towner, ex-boyfriend of Claire Kane here, murdered Matilda.”

“Matilda!” he returned in surprise.

“Yes. He kidnapped Claire, and Patricia Bule shot him,” the judge continued.

“Pat did?” It was all unbelievable.

“Yes, but he didn’t die until he tried to murder Claire and her mother Zoey. Then he slid over an edge down into a big hole, and he is presumed dead, as there could be no possibility of surviving.”

“Anybody else dead?” asked the other fireman.

“We don’t know how John Harper died yet,” added Judy, who put butter on the table.

“And Pat got shot by Deputy Jones—three times. She died.” The judge took a sip of his hot cocoa.

The judge apparently had fun shocking the firemen. “Add to the four body bags four more, making eight body bags.”

There started to be some titters of laughter from the kitchen-crowd, because it did sound so bizarre.

“A few of us found Captain Dread, two hostages and one stolen cadaver from the morgue. Oh, and the extortioner-kidnapper. They’re mummified down in the sewer caves.”

“Yes, we’ve been on an adventure!” chimed in Slobber with an upper-tooth, horsy smile.

“I’m sorry. We don’t have any body bags; only first aid. Is anyone hurt?”

“No!” Judge Huff answered with shortness. “But, the bodies are stacking up on each other in the preserves pantry.”

“I’ve got the satellite phone in my pack,” one firefighter said to the other. “I’ll place a call and report it to the police.” His attention averted to the judge. “Who’s been handling this situation,
Your Honor?”

“Deputy Jones and myself! It’s all we could do to keep the murders down and the treasure hunters in control.” He looked at the crowd accusingly.

“Yeah, and the judge here and Riley were overtaken by the little round Pat Bule and kidnapped—and imprisoned when she snatched the deputy’s gun right out of his holster. Heh hee heh!”

“Slobber! I’m going to put a gag order on you, or maybe just a gag!”

“So you don’t want me to tell them about Poop Falls, the snake bites and the big fight on the front lawn betwixt the murderous fiend and myself, either?”

“Nooooo,” breathed the judge with measured control.

Slobber began his mulish laugh, doubling over while lifting a leg.

“I think we’re forgetting someone.” Deputy Jones leaned his tall frame against a wall, holding a plate of meat and eggs. “Zoey and Claire Kane helped us through it all. If it weren’t for them, we wouldn’t have known Matilda’s greedy and devious plot
; the judge and I wouldn’t have been rescued so swiftly from a prison; and Jack wouldn’t have been sucked down Poop Falls. I just helped where I could, but they’re the real heroes.”

Zoey and Claire entered the kitchen and, having slept in and thus unaware of the remarks, were greeted by what started as a slow clap and quickened into a thunderous applaud.

*

The firemen still had many more questions before they had to return back to town. Mostly, they were glad there were plenty of supplies in the house. The
judge forbade anyone trying to leave with the firemen, warning them he knew who they all were and there would be a $5,000 fine and jail sentence for anyone leaving the scene of the murders.

Everyone finished up their breakfast, being stuffed with all
sorts of goodies. Judy said, “Excuse me. I still am hopeful of finding a treasure, but first I have to follow a finger—wherever that is.”

“Yes, I’m still looking too. Right, girls?” Two council ladies agreed with Mr. Swift as their little group headed into the library to discuss the clues.

“Anybody here not intending to search for treasure?!” The judge wanted to know.

No one raised a hand among those that were left. They all headed in different directions. “That’s what I thought!” said the fluffy, white-haired man, looking mostly unkempt now. “Rascals! Everyone of them. You’ll have to pay for any damages! Keep that in mind!”

“You know what, Mom?”

“What?”

“We can go outside without being blown away. What say we check out the front yard, fog or no?!”

The temperature was still nippy but some sun edged its way through the fog. The grounds had sparkles like diamonds, collecting across blades of grass, and dripping off tree leaves and bushes from left over rain. Everything was moist with the smell of fresh, wet dirt.

“It is amazingly refreshing without wind, even with the occasional drizzle,” spoke Zo. “I never felt so liberated in the middle of fog.” With hands on her hips, she looked around at the blown over trees, broken branches scattered on the lawn, shingles blown here and there. “Actually the house didn’t get all that damaged. Hey—there is a bit of a rainbow resting just above the house.”

Claire turned to see. “Look over at that capped tower, Mom. It looks like the end of the bow sits on the top of it. I’d like a picture of that.” The structure stood out from the rest of the Victorian’s rooftops, tall and wide. Claire took her cell phone out of her pocket and snapped some photos.

“Yeah, some of the siding came off there.” Zo narrowed her eyes to focus on what was in the shadow between its roof’s slats. “I think there is something there—a Roman numeral? How do we get up there? …And without being noticed? ”

“We ought to take a tour of the house to figure it out. We won’t be noticed with everyone else walking and looking all over.”

“Hey, wasn’t there a scriptural clue about a tower?”

“I will set me upon a tower? Oh, oh. Let’s run, Mom”

“No. Walk. Look bored. We don’t want to be followed. We don’t want to cause a panic…, or more murders!”

TWENTY-FIVE

They walked to where they thought the middle of the house might be. It was actually right where their bedroom suite was on the second floor. “Man, how convenient is that?” asked Claire.

When they opened their suite’s door, there was Judy and a couple other coven sisters walking around inside. “Oops! I hope you didn’t think the whole house could be looked over with your room being the only exception,” Judy pointed out.

“No, search on,” said Zo, pretending to be undisturbed.

Claire walked over to a suitcase and feigned looking for her makeup bag. She wasn’t one for totally unpacking, having her things scattered all over, just to be packed again, or maybe forgotten in a drawer.

“Aw, we’re done here anyway, Judy,” said an older coven sister with a ponytail.

After they were alone again, the two stood at the door with eyes scoping out the room. They didn’t see anything obvious. No doors or anything that looked open-able, other than the bathroom. There wasn’t even an attic opening in the closet’s ceiling. Claire walked over to where there was nothing but a frame on the wall, where Captain Dread’s oil painting had been cut out. “What happens when someone cuts out a painting from a frame? It never fits back again. It would be too short.”

“I guess one could put matt
ing around it. Maybe they could repair the pieces back together. That is beyond my knowledge, but how about silver masking tape?!”

“This frame is gilded in gold… and heavy.” Claire jiggled the frame, just to get a feeling for its weight. Then she jolted her mother out of her contemplative moment. “Come look. Did I find something? Help me.” She showed a separation in the wall, under the frame. Zo felt with two fingers all around and under the frame’s edge, when her skin sensed the sharp edges of a trigger of sorts. Squeezing it, the frame swung open, being also the border of a hidden door.

“Oh my gosh.” Claire dared to look through. Affixed to a wall within arm’s reach awaited a metal ladder. 

“Get a flashlight and a chair, dear. We need to get in and climb that thing.”

“Okay, I’ll go first.” Claire rattled the ladder, checking its sturdiness, before pulling herself against its chilly frame. “It’s very stable. I don’t feel it move a millimeter out of place.”

“Perfect.” Zo watched her daughter go up a few rungs before she proceeded herself. She glanced back over to the picture-frame door, and saw
a cord hanging from it. She reached back and pulled it shut. “It’s better that others don’t see it open and follow us up here. This isn’t a very safe thing we are doing.”

Just then, one of the rungs Claire had stepped onto, broke off and hit her mother on the head with an audible ding. “Sorry, Mom! You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah.” There was no resulting double-vision, and it was easy enough to skip that step and stretch to the next rung. Something caught her attention, though, before moving up further. “Don’t look down,” she said.

“I’m not that afraid of heights.”

“I say that because there is one of those chalk-outline thingies for when someone’s killed.”

Well that made it so Claire just had to look down. Quite a ways below, the concrete floor was dusty, but an outline was indeed visible. It was in one of those cliché poses you see so often on mystery novels, where the victim’s outline was in a sprint position. She felt woozy a moment, and clung to the cold ladder tighter. “The housekeeper…”

“Huh?”

“Remember the snoopy housekeeper and the false floor? I bet half our blocks of gold that’s who it was.”

“Oh, yes. That’s right. We’ve found the spot of the fifth X, the one on the map that was marked on our bedroom! Be careful climbing—one step at a time.”

They continued up until Claire met a little hatch in the ceiling. With one hand, Claire had a death-grip on the ladder, and with her other hand, she pushed the little door. It moved up maybe half a foot before it was blocked by something. New strategy: Claire wound an arm through a rung for a more firm hold, and whacked the hatch with the he
el of her available hand over and over. It seemed to be working, as dust and debris showered down on them; and one last cracking sound indicated it broke completely open.