Ghostly Paws (Mystic Notch Cozy Mystery Series) (20 page)

“That’s not true,” Derek said. “The rest of my family doesn’t like them, which is why I had to take Kitty to Doc Evans early in the morning. I keep him in my wing of the house … away from the others. Anyway, he jumped out of the window of my Mini-Cooper on the way through town and ran into the woods. I was in there trying to catch him.”

What? If that was true, it blew my whole case. The back of my mind wondered if Doc Evans could give him an alibi, but my mouth couldn’t be stopped. “I think you’re lying—covering up. That’s what killers do.”

“Willa—” Augusta tried to cut in.

“No. Wait.” I held my hand up to Augusta. “I can prove it.”

I took two long strides to Derek’s side, grabbed his sleeve and pushed it up to the elbow, turning triumphant eyes to Augusta. “See!”

Augusta squinted at Derek’s arm. “See what?”

I whipped my head back to look at his arm, my stomach sinking. There were no scratches. I pushed up the other sleeve only to find that arm was scratch free, too.

“But that’s impossible,” I said. “Pandora fought the intruder and Elspeth said they would have scratches on their forearm!”

Derek jerked his arms away. “Well, I’m not the one who broke in, which is why I don’t have any scratches. And I certainly am not the one who killed Lavinia Babbage!”

And with that, Derek stormed out the door, leaving an embarrassing silence in his wake.

I looked around the room, my leaden stomach growing even heavier. Everyone was staring at me, even Lavinia, who stood behind the counter, hands on hips.
 

Josiah cleared his throat and pushed up from the couch. “Well, I should be going.”

“Yep,” Bing said.

“Us, too,” Cordelia and Hattie twittered as the four of them fought their way to be first out the door.

Augusta gave me a look of disappointment, then wordlessly shook her head and disappeared out the door behind the others.
 

“Sorry…” I mumbled, staring at the closed door.
 

Had I accused Derek wrongly? It certainly seemed like I had. I’d wanted to reveal the killer and help Augusta out, but I’d only made a fool of myself and made Augusta mad. She’d probably never trust my instincts again.
 

And the worst part was that if neither Derek nor Josiah were the killer, that left only one person on my suspect list … Bing.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

I looked around the empty bookstore. Apparently, even Lavinia was disappointed in me—she was nowhere to be seen.

Slipping behind the counter, I lowered myself to the stool, my shoulders slumping in defeat. Glancing down, I saw the box of books I’d put there yesterday.
 

Nothing like looking at old books to pick up one’s spirits.

I rummaged in the box, picking out a thick book bound in soft brown leather. It was heavy—about four hundred pages, the edges dipped in gold leaf, almost completely worn off with centuries of use.

How many centuries? Certain that it was at least one hundred years old, I opened it up to search for a date.

It was a strange book. No publishing information could be found. The pages were thicker than most old books. They rasped as I turned them, the smell of old paper wafting up to my nose.

It was handwritten in what looked like an old quill pen. But the words weren’t English … at least not most of them. I could barely make out what it said, but they were organized with a list at the top and then a few paragraphs at the bottom. Like a recipe book.

With a start, I realized this must be one of the Bates’ ancestors hand written recipe books and probably of value to the family, especially considering the exquisite binding, which must have cost a fortune. I wondered if the recipes were any good.

I really should return it to the Bates’, but I was too embarrassed to call Derek after what had just happened.

“Oh, I see you are finally getting a clue.” Lavinia’s ghost popped into view out of nowhere and I fumbled the book, almost sending it crashing to the floor, managing to save it at the last minute.

“Sorry, Lavinia,” I said. “I really thought Derek was your killer.”

“Why would Derek kill me?”

“For the money.”

“Money? Haven’t you figured out yet that this is about something far more important than money?

My brows mashed together. The truth was, I had been starting to think this had nothing to do with the bronzes. I just couldn’t figure out what it
did
have to do with.

“You’re holding the key right in your hand,” Lavinia said as if reading my mind.

I looked down at the book which lay open in my lap. “This recipe book?”

“Those aren’t recipes, Willa. That book holds something very important, and now you must protect it.”

Her words made me uneasy. “Huh?”

“Sorry, I couldn’t help you more earlier.” Lavinia wrung her hands together. “The truth is, being a ghost isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. You aren’t trusted with all the information up front. Anyway, I just now found out the real truth, which is why I was trying to get your attention when you were grilling Derek.”

This was getting confusing. “So, you’re saying this has nothing to do with the bronzes or money, but to do with this recipe book instead?”

“Not recipes, Willa,” Lavinia bent down, her mouth close to my ear. “Spells.”

“Spells?” I squinted at the book. “I guess spells could look like recipes. But that’s ridiculous. Who would use these spells? Witches?”

Lavinia nodded solemnly.

“But, there’s no such thing.”

“Don’t I wish it,” Lavinia said. “Anyway, I cannot tell you how important this book is. There are forces of good and evil … you don’t want the evil forces to get a hold of it.”

“But, how do I know who is good and who is evil?” I squinted up at her. I still wasn’t even sure I believed the malarkey about spells and witches, but since I wasn’t doing so well with my own theory, the least I could do was to hear her out.

“Oh, you’ll know,” she said.
 

“And you must be very, very careful,” Robert Frost piped in from the purple couch where he was sitting with Franklin Pierce.

“Yes, Willa,” Franklin added. “This is dangerous and important business and we don’t want anything to happen to you.”

Robert nodded. “We’ve gotten quite attached to you here in the bookshop. It just wouldn’t be the same without you.”

I was starting to feel like I was in a dream. Spells? Witches? Ghosts getting attached to me?

The three of them jerked their heads toward the door. Robert and Franklin swung back to look at me, their mouths forming round ‘o’s.

“Oh-oh,” they said in unison before disappearing.

I turned to Lavinia who had a look of panic on her face. “Look out, Willa—my killer is coming. Remember, above all, you must protect the book!”

I looked back down at the book in my lap.
 

“I still don’t understand what, exactly, is the big deal.” I looked back up at Lavinia, but she was gone.

“Hey …” I let my voice trail off. Leave it to a ghost to disappear with some vague warning and only half the answers I needed.

“Are you talking to someone?”

I whirled around at the sound of the voice, fingers of dread squeezing my heart when I saw who stood there …

Bing Thorndike.

***

How did
he
get in? I hadn’t heard the door jangle.
 

My eyes slid to his forearms, but he still had long sleeves, so I couldn’t see the scratches Pandora had inflicted on him when he’d broken into my house. The break-in hadn’t made sense last night, but now I knew the reason. I was holding it in my hands.

“Give me the book, Willa. I’ll keep it safe.” Bing reached out toward the book, the clunky gold Magician’s Guild ring gleaming on his finger.

My mind whirled in confusion as Bing advanced on me, his face wore a smile that might have appeared friendly any other time, but looked menacing to me now.
 

I sat frozen on the stool. I couldn’t give Bing the book—he was the killer! Handing the book over was the
last
thing I was going to do. Not just because I instinctively felt protective of the book, but I also feared he’d kill
me
once I handed it over.

Movement at the end of the inspirational books aisle caught my eye and I looked over to see Robert Frost pulling a book from the shelf.

Bang!

The sound of the book slamming to the floor distracted Bing and I ran toward the door.

“Willa! Wait! I’m trying to help you!” I heard Bing yell as I ran across the shop, the old book clutched to my chest.
 

My leg was burning, slowing me down. It seemed like I was running in chest-high water and my gut twisted as I realized it wasn’t just because of my bum leg. Something strange was happening, as if time was slowing down.

I fought my way toward the door, a glance back over my shoulder showed Bing gaining ground. I closed my eyes, the sinking sensation in my chest overwhelming me … I couldn’t let Bing get me.

The memory of a book I once read surfaced. In the book, the hero could speed up time by turning the hands of their watch forward.
Too bad I don’t wear a watch
, I thought, wishing with all my heart I had put one on that morning.
 

I looked down at my wrist. I
had
put one on! Not caring why I didn’t necessarily remember putting it on that morning, I reached down and turned the small knob, the minute hand moving forward just as I felt Bing’s heavy hand clutch my shoulder.

***

I was catapulted out the door onto the street, my face crushed into someone’s chest.
 

I pulled away, the taste of wool in my mouth and my heart racing as I looked up into the surprised face of Carson Bates. His car sat idling behind him at the curb, the back door still open.

Relief flooded through me.
 

“Carson, thank goodness.” I glanced behind me to see if Bing was catching up. “You gotta help me! We need to get out of here.”

His eyes flew up and he stepped aside, gesturing toward the open door. I launched myself into the car and he slid in beside me, closing the door behind him.

“Go!” I yelled at the driver, who raised his brow at Carson in the rear view mirror. Carson nodded and the car shot forward.

I twisted in the seat, looking out the rear window, past the long length of the trunk to see Bing shoot out the door of my shop onto the street.

I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket. I needed to call Augusta, although I wasn’t sure what I was going to say. Somehow I didn’t think telling her Bing had slowed down time to take a recipe book from me was going to impress her.

“Not so fast,” Carson said as I started to punch the numbers.

“Huh?” I looked over at him.

The phone turned molten hot in my hand and I dropped it with a squeal, pulling my hand back. As I watched it melt on the floor mat, I held my already blistering fingers against my chest.
 

I looked from the puddle of my phone to Carson, my brows mashed together. My brain felt a little slow on the uptake. My heart thudded against my ribcage.
 

What was going on?

“Thanks, Willa.” Carson reached across the seat toward the book in my lap. A glimmer of gold on his finger caught my eye—the Bates family crest ring. “I was coming for this, but you saved me the trouble. How convenient.”

I pulled the book away, instinctively trying to hide it behind my back on the other side of him. He stretched around me to grab the book, the sleeves of his navy blue coat pulled back, exposing his forearms.

My breath caught in my throat—his arms were raked with scratches.

Chapter Thirty

The hard, musty floor pressing on my shoulder blades alerted me to the fact that I was laying down. Dampness seeped through my sweatshirt. A dank, earthy smell tickled my nose. I opened one eye, the dim flicker of light from the single bulb in the ceiling seared into my eyeball with a stabbing pain.

Closing my eye, I rolled on my side, blinking my eyes open again as I fought the wave of nausea that rolled over me. Once it passed, I stared at my surroundings in disbelief.

I’d heard rumors that the Bates mansion had a real dungeon, but I didn’t believe them. Until now. Now I
had
to believe it … because I was in it.

The stone walls in the cavernous room were void of windows, the only source of light coming from the one dim bulb sticking out of the screw-in socket in the ceiling directly above me. It was clear the addition of electricity had been an afterthought down here in the basement.

To tell the truth, the depressing atmosphere would have been more appropriately illuminated by the ancient torches that sat unlit in their iron holders in the wall. Given the dim lighting, I could see only about twenty feet in front of me, after which the rest of the basement was shrouded in foreboding dark shadow.

Seeing twenty feet in front of me was enough, though. Enough to see that I was in some sort of iron cage, the bars going from floor to ceiling, the door held shut by an old iron lock. The cage was empty except for me and a thin layer of straw in the corner, which I hoped wasn’t supposed to be my bed.

How did I get here?

I pushed myself up from the ground. The stinging pain in my hand as it touched the floor jolted my memory of the car ride with Carson.
 

My stomach twisted. It was Carson Bates who had broken into my house and likely him who killed Lavinia. He wore a big ring. He rode in the dark black car. He had the same gray streak in his hair as Derek.
 

And, when I’d run into him on the street, he was wearing one of the coats I’d seen in the Bates garage. A navy blue coat with oversized storm flaps on the shoulders and back. Those storm flaps could easily have been mistaken for a cape in the shadowy figure Lavinia had seen as she fell down the steps.

My head started to ache along with my hand and my leg as I tried to remember what had happened. The last thing I remembered was Carson trying to take the book from me in the car. Seeing as how I didn’t have the book now, he must have succeeded. Everything after that was a blank.