Phantom Blend (A Paramour Bay Cozy Paranormal Mystery Book 12) Read online

  Fourteen dollars and ninety-nine cents.

  “One dollar,” I replied with a smile.

  I swear, there are days that I just want to—

  “One dollar it is!” Albert exclaimed in victory as he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a money clip. “Eugene, we’ve got ourselves an afternoon game of checkers.”

  “With tea,” Eugene added, shuffling over to me and setting the box down in front of the metal box. “How much?”

  For the love of all catnip, give them your mother’s reading glasses. Can they not see the bright yellow price sticker on the items? You’re being robbed, Raven. Robbed!

  “Fifty cents,” I quipped, holding open the palm of my hand so that he could drop two quarters in it. To me, part of the garage sale was the sense of community. It wasn’t about raking in the dough. “And an answer to a question.”

  I would have rather had the other fourteen dollars and forty-nine cents.

  “What’s that?” Eugene asked suspiciously after picking up his box of teabags. “I didn’t see Beetle close up early yesterday, if that’s what you are wondering.”

  My mother cleared her throat and picked up a wallet that I was selling from when I’d lived in New York City. It was a knock-off of a major designer, but I was only asking for three dollars. As for my mother’s interest in said knock-off, she wouldn’t be caught dead with it in her purse.

  It was clear as day that she’d been the one responsible for Beetle closing up the teashop early.

  The Mistress of the Dark is always a bad influence. I’ve told you that repeatedly. I’m starting to take offense at you not believing a word I say…such as the fact that the ninja squirrel is about to jump out of the tree.

  A quick glance showed that Leo was in butt wiggle mode.

  Maybe if the squirrel led him on a wild goose chase, it would release all of his pent-up energy.

  “It’s actually about the Marigolds.” I closed the lid on the money container and leaned my forearms on the table. “Do you remember anyone from my family being in Paramour Bay when you were young?”

  “Not that I recall.” Eugene glanced over to Albert, who was still admiring his new checkerboard. “Albert? You recall any Marigolds being around when we were lads?”

  I see that misfit squirrel poking his head out of the leaves. It’s only a matter of time…

  “The first Marigold to come to town was your grandmother, Raven.” Albert tucked the wooden board underneath his arm. “She was…unique. It took time for the residents to warm up to her, but those holistic tea blends of hers eventually got the townsfolk to trust her. She helped a lot of people with their ailments, just as you do. I don’t know if we tell you that enough, young lady.”

  I’ll admit that my heart was practically bursting at the seams upon hearing Albert’s kind words.

  Paramour Bay was more than a town.

  It had become my home, and all of these residents were like extended family in some way or another. It was also good to know that no other Marigolds had been around back then, giving me a sense of relief that maybe Agnus had used the cursive R on the back of the hairbrush to throw us off.

  Come just a hair closer, you ninja misfit!

  Leo took off as fast as his wobbling frame could go after the squirrel that had basically spent a good chunk of the morning taking a nap nestled high up in the tree. The two weaved in and out of people’s yards like something out of a cartoon. The distraction would keep Leo busy for a while.

  “I appreciate that, Albert,” I said with complete heartfelt emotion. “You two enjoy the rest of your morning, and good luck with your checkers game.”

  Eugene and Albert took their recent purchases and walked around my table to go see what Mrs. Salazar had out on her tables. I waited until they were out of earshot before addressing my mother.

  “Mom, are there any other Marigolds around the area? Besides Aunt Rowena, that is.” I glanced across the driveway to see that Heidi was now talking with Beetle. He’d made his way back over to us after buying the footstool that he’d most likely gotten a deal on. She flashed me a smile that said she could entertain him while Mom and I talked about all things supernatural. “A cousin, maybe?”

  “You, Aunt Rowena, and I are all who is left of our line, as far as I know.” My mother frowned at the implications Agnus had suggested. “I’m going to contact my friend again. I have a feeling that he’s holding out on me. We’ve already arrived at the idea that Agnus hid her presence from your grandmother, but why? Why wouldn’t Agnus have claimed her rightful territory? Druids are usually quite territorial.”

  I don’t know the answer to that question, but the ninja misfit scurried into the backyard of Mr. Jenkins’ property. He had his trusty broom handy, and I barely escaped with my life intact. Listen, say I was here with you all morning if he comes down here complaining that the peonies in his front yard were flattened into the ground.

  “I wish I had the answer,” I murmured, sitting back against my chair as another group of ladies began to walk up the driveway. Leo was practically sucking in air with all of his running around the neighborhood, though he was mindful to keep an eye on Mr. Jenkins’ driveway. “Mom, can you do some digging on the Ritchies and try to confirm that they didn’t somehow have the same scrolled R that our family used over the years?”

  Technically, neither Mom nor I had used any type of emblem on our belongings. I don’t recall Aunt Rowena doing so, either. There was a really good chance that we could be looking at this entire mystery all wrong.

  What we need to do is convince Bernard to cross through the veil and then leave everything else status quo. No need to upset that prehistoric crypt keeper any more than necessary. She’s got some serious mojo. I think the real question that we should be asking is if druids can be immortal.

  “Druids aren’t immortal, Leo,” my mother replied wryly, tapping her red nails on her coffee cup. “I do have an idea of where I might be able to do a bit of research on past generations of this town.”

  Raven, are you actually authorizing your mother to go gallivanting around town asking probing questions about our resident prehistoric crypt keeper? Apparently, I need to step up in my role as your familiar and warn against letting her roam wild.

  “Are you afraid that I’ll side with Skippy and his friends?” my mother asked with a wicked smile that had Leo’s left eye bulging. “I mean, I do have certain valuable inside information.”

  Leo’s whiskers began twitching a lot faster than I’d ever seen before, so I quickly put an end to their bickering.

  “Stop antagonizing him,” I warned her, wondering when I was going to have a chance to enjoy my own cup of coffee. Mom had practically already finished hers, and Leo had already had his breakfast. Meanwhile, I’d gotten a late start and still didn’t have the appropriate amount of caffeine running through my veins. “Whatever your idea is, go ahead and find out all you can about the script R.”

  In the meantime, I would take the time to enjoy the rest of the annual garage sale. Bernard didn’t want to be released from the mirror until we’d proven that Mabel had nothing to do with his imprisonment. Agnus clearly wasn’t going to see us in person, and it wasn’t like I could continue to hound Gertie about something that happened before she was born.

  Mom wiggled her fingers in goodbye as she walked across the driveway to drag Beetle away from Heidi. She’d somehow kept Beetle in the dark about our ability to cast magic. How she could keep something that important from the man she loved was beyond me. I couldn’t imagine having gone any longer without Liam knowing such an important part of me.

  I would like to point out that our lives were simpler when the Mistress of the Dark lived in New York City. Now, I have to worry about trade secrets being passed over enemy lines. I can only handle so much stress, Raven. Just so you know, I’m adding an entry into my little black book about your mother’s threatened treachery. At this rate, I’m going to have to start keeping track of my collenemies.
Get it? Like frenemies, only the Mistress of the Dark isn’t my friend. I consider your mother a colleague and an enemy who I reluctantly have to work with because she’s related to you.

  “Leo, you just gave me a great idea,” I murmured, smiling at the ladies who’d stopped by Heidi’s table first. They were about to head this way. “Don’t go too far. We have to pay Gertie another visit.”

  Why? Those generic treats gave me heartburn yesterday. Besides, I now have to worry about your mother blowing my secret plans for the squirrelpocalypse sky high. On second thought, why don’t we head over there now? Oh boy, I feel a hairball coming up.

  Sure enough, a quick glance up the street revealed that Mr. Jenkins was standing over his flattened peonies. He looked this way, and his stern frown indicated that he fully blamed Leo. I quickly whispered a spell and sent a bit of energy toward the purple flowers while Mr. Jenkins’ attention was focused on us. By the time he looked back, his peonies were in tiptop shape.

  Fine. I owe you one. We’ll go to the inn where I’ll suffer through eating those generic treats that result in me breathing fire, but I still want to make that entry in my little black book to keep a list of my collenemies. Now, to start updating my list…

  Chapter Eleven

  I see flames, Raven.

  Leo was sitting back on his haunches, his tummy full of generic treats. He was audibly breathing while I sat at the dining room table at the inn. Gertie and I had just finished enjoying the apple pie that Beverly had made earlier in the day, topped off with a scoop of French vanilla ice cream.

  As for Leo, he’d wolfed down those treats as if he hadn’t already eaten dinner.

  They smelled delicious. We should sue the company, Raven. False advertising, at its finest.

  “I can’t thank you enough, Raven.” Gertie patted the boxes of teabags that I hadn’t sold during the garage sale. I’d given them to her for the guests, and she could add on additional flavors to her monthly order if one of them turned out to be a hit. The tea with a hint of raspberries was perfect for a summer beverage. “I’m going to try this new flavor with my evening treat of cookies.”

  The old biddy’s evening might not be so enjoyable when I catch the curtains on fire. My belly is a-bubbling.

  Knowing that Gertie always loved to try new teas eased my guilty conscience of the ruse that I’d come up with today. Now, I had to come up with a reason for why I wanted to look at the historic documents.

  I was definitely coming up blank.

  Not unusual. Do you see a fire extinguisher that I can suck on around here?

  “Your visit yesterday got me to thinking that I’d lost track of friends from way back in the day.” Gertie pushed her plate away and patted Beverly’s hand as the other woman collected the plates. “I couldn’t help myself, and I reached out to Agnus. It was so good catching up with her, though a phone call is so impersonal. Don’t you agree?”

  Before I could reply, Beverly clicked her tongue and set down the rest of the cream that Gertie and I hadn’t used in our tea. She didn’t seem to know that dairy could be harmful to domestic cats, but Leo was a familiar. His diet wasn’t the norm, and I could already hear his purrs of satisfaction.

  My very own personal fire extinguisher!

  Leo began to lap up the cream that Beverly had poured into a small bowl, allowing me to give my full attention to Gertie. She’d been in contact with Agnus by phone. I’d never thought to take that approach, and now I couldn’t wait to hear what was said.

  “That’s wonderful, Gertie,” I exclaimed, resting my forearms on the table in earnest. “Connecting with long-lost friends is always delightful, isn’t it?”

  What is delightful is that I’m no longer breathing fire. I wouldn’t want to get mistaken for Satan’s mini-dragon. There are a few old biddies who aren’t very happy with Mr. C for stealing those feathers out of their hats.

  “It certainly is, and Agnus accepted my invitation to join me for dinner tomorrow night. I don’t understand how it was that we lost touch,” Gertie wondered aloud with a shake of her head. “I mean, she still lives right on the outskirts of town. It’s not like either one of us moved across the country.”

  “Well, the days certainly get away from us, don’t they?” I proposed, thinking back to my high school days. I’d had some good friends, but we’d all gone our separate ways. “I’m glad that you two reconnected, Gertie.”

  Oh, I see where you’re going with this conversation. The answer is no. A resounding no, in case you didn’t hear the tone of my voice. We are not, under any circumstances, coming here for dinner.

  “You should join us, dear,” Gertie said, reaching over to pat my arm. I grinned, although my smile had more to do with Leo’s groan than it did with her invitation. How could he not see that this was the perfect way to meet Agnus and finally get the answers that we needed to help clear Mabel’s name? If it did turn out that Mabel had made a deal with the Ritchies, then Bernard would have to accept it. “After all, you are the reason that we reconnected in the first place.”

  How could I not see? Really? Maybe it’s because I don’t have blinders on, Raven. Don’t you do it. Don’t you dare—

  “I would love to join the two of you, Gertie.” Now if only getting access to the inn’s historical records was just as easy. I did have an angle that I could play, though. “I heard that the wax museum was having an auction today instead of joining the garage sale.”

  There is absolutely no mentoring you, Raven. None whatsoever.

  “Yes, and I am happy to say that I was able to purchase one of the first wax replicas of Dean Martin. I was so in love with that man,” Gertie said in admiration as she pretended to fan her face. “The first couple of tries in creating him didn’t come out the way they’d hoped, and he’s been in storage for years. They promised to deliver him tomorrow, and I’m as giddy as a schoolgirl!”

  This conversation is going downhill fast. Let’s just call it a wash and take our leave. There’s still enough daylight for me to continue my search for Skippy’s secret headquarters. It’s got to be somewhere nearby.

  “I heard that some historical documents were also being auctioned off,” I said, treading lightly in hopes of steering the discussion back toward the inn. “I didn’t have a chance to stop by, but I bet a piece of history like that was something to see.”

  “I sent Beverly over to bid on my Dean, so I don’t know what else was available at the auction.” Gertie leaned down to run a hand over Leo’s back. “I can’t imagine selling something so important as family history. Why, I still have all the papers and guestbooks back from when my family first opened the doors to the inn.”

  Right there, old biddy. Oh, yeah. Neck scratches are the best.

  “You do?” I asked, unable to believe that Gertie had voluntarily brought up the exact piece of the puzzle that I needed in order to tie together a few strings of the past.

  I loathed having to skirt around the reason for my being here, because I truly adored Gertie. I certainly didn’t condone lying or manipulating, yet how else could I help a lost soul while keeping the supernatural realm safe?

  If you ask me, this is a little too easy.

  “Oh, yes!” Gertie pushed on the table, steadying herself as she rested a hand on her cane. “Come with me.”

  Leo had a point, and I was hesitant to follow Gertie into the parlor.

  Even so, I found myself gravitating toward her in hopes that I could find the answer to whoever else might have been here at the same time that Bernard Williams and Paulie Russo had booked their rooms. Bernard claimed that it had just been Paulie, but he could have easily been mistaken.

  Are we still not concerned over the fact that the old biddy is basically handing over what you want to look at on a silver platter?

  I was concerned, but not enough to walk away without taking a peek at one of the guest books from the 1920s. It could hold the key to finding out if someone else was responsible for murdering Bernard.

 
; Yeah, well, you go ahead and follow the old biddy into the parlor. I’ll stay right outside the door so that I can scream for help when that silver platter hits you on top of the head.

  I’d already considered that maybe Agnus had a hand in Gertie’s willingness to go along with whatever I suggested, but how could she have known that the idea might have come to me that someone else besides Mabel Watson or Paul Russo was guilty of murdering Bernard?

  Besides, the palm on my right hand remained cool as a cucumber.

  I guess now that you’ve crossed the threshold into the parlor, which is exactly where the old chap met his demise, it might not be a good time to remind you that your palm malfunctions more than Beetle repeats his words?

  Beetle did have a tendency to repeat words, but that was just his style of communication. As far as Leo pointing out that my sense of danger was a bit faulty, I had already taken that into account. I was purposefully coiling energy in the middle of my palm in case Agnus had set some type of trap and jumped at me out of nowhere.

  If that prehistoric crypt keeper jumps out of nowhere, I’m warning you now that I won’t be able to control my blipping issue. I’ll disappear in the blink of an eye. Don’t worry, though. I’ll give a nice eulogy at your funeral.

  Leo seemed to be forgetting that if I crossed through the veil to the afterlife, he joined me on that particular trip.

  I do? Oh, sweet angel of mercy, I do! Raven, get out of that parlor right this minute! I’ve got important things to do on this side before we meet our maker.

  Gertie had led me over to multiple glass cases that I’d never seen before, and I was immediately mesmerized by the items within. An old bell, a quill pen with its bottle of ink, and numerous other odds and ends from years past had been stored in these cases for their safety. Some of the older guestbooks were stacked on top of each other, but the one that was open happened to be from the exact time of Bernard’s stay at the inn.