Obsidian Curse (A Stacy Justice Mystery Book Five) Page 13

  Birdie was the one to answer.

  “Special delivery.” I wheeled Monique past her and set the wheelbarrow down in the kitchen.

  Her eyes widened.

  “I tried, Birdie, I really did, but it got to the point where she just wasn’t going to play nice.”

  Birdie looked at Monique, then at me. “So you killed her?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Is she drunk?” Birdie lifted her nose, sniffed the air. “She smells like a Dublin distillery.” She looked closer at Monique. “And Temple Bar at four a.m.”

  I decided to stifle my question in regards to Dublin’s nightlife. Some things a granddaughter shouldn’t know.

  “She’s”—I searched for a word that would make me sound more like a great Seeker and less like a sociopath—“sleeping.” I grinned. “Where do you want her? Because for the rest of the day and hopefully the better part of the evening, she’s your problem.”

  Birdie looked around the kitchen as if someone had just delivered a sack of potatoes and she didn’t possibly have any room left in the cupboard for it. She made a face. “She smells bad.”

  “Little issue with some busted pipes in her bathroom. She’ll clean up all right.”

  Lolly came into the room then. “One more for supper?” she said when she saw Monique slumped in the wheelbarrow, tongue dangling out of her mouth. Lolly was drinking champagne from a crystal flute, wearing glass slippers, a white leotard, and a blue veil.

  “Yep. And not just tonight. I hope you have a vacancy, because it’s sort of my fault that her apartment was washed away.”

  In my note to Pickle, I had asked him for his assistance in helping me guard Monique. I didn’t anticipate that he would destroy her apartment to accomplish that goal, but I had to admit the fairy was effective.

  I didn’t hear Fiona come in but suddenly she was behind me. “We have one room left. That Blade Knight rented two.”

  “Two?” I asked. That was strange. Why would Blade need two rooms?

  “Celebrities,” Lolly said as if she had read my mind, and when hers was sharp, she sometimes could.

  Birdie stared at Monique. “How long will she be asleep?”

  “A few hours, maybe more. I figured this was the safest place to bring her. Plus, it’s kind of your fault she’s in this mess.”

  Birdie shot each of her sisters a glare, clearly indicating that this conundrum was all their doing. “Still. The state of her.” She crinkled her nose.

  “Yes, well, it’s a messy business being a witch.”

  “Did you at least find the Leanan Sidhe?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Sure, Birdie. I did that before lunch. It was a snap.”

  “There’s no need to be sarcastic.”

  “Well, give me a bit more to go on here. It’s not like I can take out a want ad for a blood-sucking sexpot with big knockers. Which reminds me. When I find her, how do I catch and bind her for transport?”

  “There’s a magic lasso in the upstairs chamber,” Birdie said.

  “Seriously?”

  Birdie smiled. “No. I can be a smart-mouth too.”

  I high-fived her. Then I gave her my house key. “The Blessed Book is in the Seeker’s Den. Since the Leanan and the curse are a part of the Geraghty history, there must be some sort of contingency plan in there if she were to escape. Hopefully, it will tell us what to do.”

  “I’ll see what I can do, but you must bear in mind that Samhain is fast approaching.”

  “I know.”

  Samhain, when the dead pass through the veil and the fairies cross through the worlds. It was a day when anything could happen.

  Lolly, always excited by any project that involved dressing someone up, accepted the challenge. She grabbed the wheelbarrow and said, “We’ll take it from here, dear. You’ve done well.”

  “Great, because I have to get to my next interview.” I put my hand on the door that led through to the common areas of the house.

  “It’s here?” Birdie asked. “Why?”

  I turned to her and shrugged. “Celebrities. You want the goods, you have to go to them.”

  The lock clicked behind me and I passed through the hallway and one other door that fed into the parlor. There was a key under the carpet that I used to lock it behind me.

  I set my bag on the piano and went to wash Monique’s stink off me. When I returned, Blade Knight was standing in the living room looking as if he’d just witnessed a book burning.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “We have a problem,” he said.

  “Well, that won’t do, Blade, because I’ve met my problem quota for the day.”

  “Look at this.” He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a piece of paper.

  It was a note, the words comprised of letters cut out of magazine articles and pasted together.

  It read:

  Stay away from the girl and no one gets hurt.

  I lifted my head to meet the author’s eyes. “What girl? Who is it referring to?”

  Blade tilted his head and said, “I think it means you.”

  I frowned. “That doesn’t make sense; why would someone want you to stay away from me?”

  He shrugged. “Maybe we’re getting close.”

  “Close? We haven’t even started yet.” I looked at the note again. There was something familiar about it, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. The paper? The letters? It looked just like plain white paper. But still. There was a trace of recognition in my mind as I held the paper. “Where did you find it?”

  “On my car.”

  “And since you’ve pretty much talked to half the town already, anyone can know what you’re driving.” Not to mention there weren’t too many $80,000 cars roaming around Amethyst.

  He nodded.

  I hated to admit it, but I felt there was no other option. “I think it’s time we talked to Leo,” I said.

  Blade started to protest and I lifted my hand. “We need to see the police report from the day your parents were killed anyway. I think you should also show him the note, but that’s up to you.”

  “But last night, you said—”

  “I know what I said, but I can’t be responsible for your safety, Blade. If anything happened to you and I could have somehow prevented it, I would feel terrible.”

  He sighed. “Okay. If you think that’s best.” He sounded doubtful.

  “I do. But first, I have a couple of questions for you.”

  “Shoot.”

  “My aunts said that you rented two rooms. Why?”

  “My agent’s coming in tonight for the book signing.”

  “So the second question is why was my life the subject in Stone Cold?”

  Blade gave me a confused look. “What are you talking about?”

  “The car in the ice, Blade, that happened to me.”

  He still looked as if I were off my medication. Then slowly, realization spread across his face.

  “That’s just how fiction authors operate, Stacy. We read something, hear something on the news, see something on a television show, hell, even quirks from kids I went to grade school with—it all gets programmed into our brains and somehow, often completely subconsciously, the pieces get regurgitated into a novel.”

  I said, “So I’m literary vomit, then. That makes me feel better.”

  He walked over and grabbed my bag, handed it to me. “You’re not a special snowflake. In fact…” He drank in the parlor with its antique furniture, flowery wallpaper, and woodworking details that weren’t present in modern homes. “This house might pop up in my next novel.”

  “So long as I don’t.”

  He held up two fingers. “Scout’s honor.”

  “Why do I get the feeling you were never a Boy Scout, Blade?” />
  He smiled and opened the door, standing off to the side to let me pass through first. “I guess it’s time to write the next chapter.”

  Those words triggered something in me. An ancient spark, a primal instinct. It was a niggling that wormed through my brain, my conscious, telling me that I should be picking up on a whisper planted inside me long ago. That there was a truth about Blade Knight that I had known all along, but failed to recognize. Something that, once it surfaced, would have a lasting impact on both our lives.

  Only I couldn’t grasp it.

  But I knew one thing for certain. Our paths were destined to cross, no matter what the outcome.

  Chapter 22

  I grabbed a couple of umbrellas and Birdie’s rain slicker with the triple goddess on the back and we headed out.

  On the way to the police department, Cinnamon called.

  “Three more packages arrived today,” she said.

  “Did you open them?”

  “Yes. There was a Cinderella teapot, an iced tea pitcher hand-painted with Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, and a Jack and the Beanstalk soap dispenser.” Her voice had a nervous edge to it. On the one hand, I found it rather comical that my cousin was being tortured by fairy-tale characters; on the other hand, I’d never known her to be so unsettled before.

  “Why don’t you unpack them, put them in the kitchen, and see how you feel afterward.”

  Because maybe it was Uncle Deck. Maybe he was trying to buy his granddaughter a few things from beyond the grave. Although why he didn’t just opt for a rubber ducky and a stuffed bear like normal people do, I wouldn’t know until I tried to contact him.

  “Okay. I’ll try that.”

  “If you still feel funny, load up Thor and head to the inn. I’ll be there after I take care of a few things.”

  “All right. Later.” She hung up.

  The windshield wipers on Blade’s car were swooshing back and forth on high speed as the rain pelted the hood.

  I sighed, worried about my cousin and, well, pretty much everyone. What if I didn’t find the Leanan Sidhe? Samhain was coming up and there was a good chance that if I didn’t find her by then, she’d grow stronger. Maybe stronger than I could handle. I wondered if I should call in Ivy and John to help—the other members of the Council’s team of operatives. Except this wasn’t a Council mission. It was a family mission. And as important as it was, there was no doubt that this thing with Blade was equally important.

  Blade said, “Is someone sick?”

  It took me a moment to realize what he meant and then I recalled what I had said on the phone. “My cousin. She’s pregnant.”

  “Oh. Boy or girl?”

  “They want to be surprised.”

  The street that led to the police station was coming up. “Turn right here.”

  Blade made a right and pulled into the parking lot of the police station. I put the hood of the slicker over my head and handed him one of the umbrellas.

  I opened the door, stuck the umbrella out, and fanned it open.

  We trotted to the steps and scaled them two at a time. The overhang on the building shielded the rain and I took a moment to shake out the umbrella before closing it.

  The perky new receptionist, whose name I couldn’t recall, looked happy to see someone in the station. She was a young girl with fluffy blonde hair and a dazzling smile.

  “Hi, Stacy! How you doing? Don’t tell me you found another dead body. Is that why you’re here? Because I had October in the pool and Gus had November, but don’t tell Leo, cuz we aren’t supposed to be betting on dead bodies anymore. He thinks it’s disrespectful, but I don’t really see the big deal, I mean there ain’t much else to do around here, not that I wish anyone to be harmed, but—”

  “It’s not about a body.”

  She looked disappointed.

  “But I do need to talk with the chief. Is he in?”

  “Sure thing. Go on back.”

  I started to push through the little half gate that led to Leo’s office. I stopped when I realized Blade wasn’t behind me.

  “You coming?” I asked.

  He was staring at the receptionist like a scientist examining a newly discovered gene under a microscope.

  “Be right there.”

  I cocked my head at him.

  He shrugged. “Research.”

  I left Blade there, walked down the short, brightly lit hallway, and turned toward Leo’s office.

  He was sitting at his desk, shaking his head, and mumbling to himself. His dark hair was slicked back and damp as if he’d been caught in the rain, and he was still wearing a trench coat. He looked like a character from a Raymond Chandler novel.

  I knocked on the open door. “Hey there.”

  He glanced up, smiled. “Hey yourself.” The smile faded. “Please tell me you didn’t find a body. I’m having the worst day.”

  “Nope. Didn’t find a single corpse. What’s so awful about your day?” There was a wooden chair against the wall and I dragged it over and sat in it.

  “For starters, I just got back from the Shelby Farm, where someone dressed up all the goats in cheap Halloween costumes.”

  I stifled a giggle. “What was your favorite?”

  “Favorite what?”

  “Costume. I’m sure one of them jumped out at you that made you say, well, that is kind of funny.”

  Leo tried to hide a smirk, but failed. “Cher.”

  “Awesome.”

  “Not awesome. I swear if I ever find the idiots who pull these stunts…” He shook his head. “Plus, the phone won’t stop ringing about a kid wearing a Star Trek hat stealing pies, candy, flowers, and gazing balls. Gus is out taking a report right now, in fact.”

  Gus was Leo’s deputy. He wasn’t exactly Monk, so I didn’t think he’d actually be able to catch Pickle, but I’d have to have a talk with the fairy anyway about true offerings and taking things that belong to others.

  Leo looked up at the ceiling and muttered, his hands spread wide, “Who the hell steals gazing balls?”

  The Fae do love their shiny things.

  Leo finally took off his coat and draped it over the back of his chair. He sat down. “So what’s up?”

  “I need you to pull up a cold-case file for me. The Conrad murders. Around thirty years ago.”

  He narrowed his eyes, clasped his hands out in front of him. “Why?”

  “Because I’d like to read the file,” I said, matter-of-factly.

  “Is this about the other night? Did something happen at your place?”

  “Are you going to make this difficult? Because it’s public record.”

  “Are you going to put yourself in danger again?” His voice was unflinching. “And technically, if the killer was never caught, I don’t have to show it to you.”

  “So you are going to be difficult.”

  “If it means I can keep you from getting hurt, then yes.” Leo sighed and ran his hands through his hair, as he often did in my presence. As if he were trying to wash me out of it. “Just tell me why you want to go digging around in a thirty-year-old murder.”

  “Because I asked her to,” Blade said from the open doorway.

  Leo practically fell out of his chair. “Mr. Knight, hello again.”

  “Hello, Chief.”

  Leo wagged a finger at the writer. “I told you to call me Leo.”

  “Right. Leo. I believe you also said if there was anything I needed…?”

  Leo fired a frustrated look at me. I sat back in the chair and folded my arms, grinning.

  Leo was visibly conflicted when we left his office, but he gave us the report anyway, along with the crime scene photos. Blade gave Leo the note and told him about the shots through my window. He wasn’t too happy about being lied to, but Blade was able to smooth things over
with the promise of free signed copies of all his books for life. Leo said he’d be at my place as soon as he could to investigate the “vandalism.”

  Back at the cottage, Blade and I spread the photos out on the counter and I looked at those while Blade read the report. There were a few suspects. A handyman who had installed a deck on the back of the home, two petty criminals, and a man who Blade’s father had gotten into a heated altercation with at a local sporting event. All of them had alibied out.

  I said to Blade, “Did the police know if the hammer that was used belonged to your parents?”

  He flipped through the pages of the report. After a minute, he shook his head. “It doesn’t say. No fingerprints were found on it, though.”

  “So it was either wiped clean or the killer wore gloves.”

  “Looks that way.”

  “Hmm,” I said.

  Blade tossed me a glance “What are you thinking?”

  “If I were going to kill someone in their own home, I wouldn’t bring a hammer to do it, would you?”

  Blade got my meaning. “No. I’d bring a gun, maybe a knife.” He thought for a moment. “So it had to be in the room. It had to belong to my parents.”

  “Right. And your mother was an artist. Your dad was struck from behind, so maybe he was hanging a picture.”

  “Which means it could have been a weapon of convenience. Maybe they knew the person. Invited whoever it was in while they were in the middle of hanging some artwork.” He thought for a moment, walked over to the far wall where a photo hung of my parents. He twisted his neck to face me. “Do you have a hammer?”

  There was one in the junk drawer in the kitchen. I grabbed it and handed it to him.

  Blade took the hammer and stood in front of the picture. “I’m about my dad’s height, so if I were hanging a painting, I’d take the nail about here”—he pretended to hold a nail up—“and then swing like this.” He feigned hammering a nail into the wall. “Now, the doorbell rings.” He paused and looked at me.