The Scariest Tail (A Wonder Cats Mystery Book 4) (6 page)

W
e had posted
a sign on the door at the Brew-Ha-Ha that we had all gone fishing for the day. Life was a little too hectic for any of us to focus on work. When we returned the following day, our steady stream of regulars, and some irregulars, showed up and asked if everything was okay.

That was one of the great things about living in Wonder Falls. It wasn’t a huge metropolis, but it wasn’t just a hayseed town either. It was a mix of good-hearted people who got along relatively well and just a sprinkling of weirdos. My family could easily slip into the latter category.

In between saying howdy-do to the regular patrons and serving up the pastries and special dishes of the day, I was able to get a few words in to Bea.

“How’s Jake feeling?” I asked.

“He’s feeling a lot better. I couldn’t stop him from going to work last night. He’s as stubborn as a mule. And he didn’t want to talk about, you know, what he told us.” She looked around to make sure there weren’t any prying ears.

“But,” she continued, turning to me with wildly excited eyes, “there’s news about the Roy case.” She brought her hand up to cover her mouth so no one would see her mouth the word “Roy.”

“Really?” Aunt Astrid said from behind me. “What’s happening?”

“Yeah, what’s happening?” I couldn’t believe I had almost forgotten about my encounter with Blake at the Roy house.

“Jake said that Blake had been staking out their house just on the off chance he saw something unusual or noticed any kids lurking around up to no good. He hasn’t given up on the whole black-eyed kid thing being a hoax.” She looked around quickly, most likely to see if anyone from the Prestwick area was in the café.

When she didn’t see any Prestwickans, she continued. “While he was sitting there, he saw a man pull up in the driveway in a beat-up blue pickup truck.”

My heart froze. Had Blake mentioned he was sitting in my car with me? Had he mentioned how close we were when we ducked down in the seat to avoid being seen? I began to chew my lip nervously. My mind flashed back to those few minutes we’d been together. He’d smelled so good. I remembered seeing a little bit of a smile on his face. I thought I had. Hadn’t I?

“…and answered the door with a shotgun,” Bea was saying.

I guess Blake hadn’t said anything about me. I wasn’t sure if I was relieved or hurt.

Bea continued with the story where I had left off with Blake following the car out of Prestwick.

“Were he and Lisa having an affair?” Aunt Astrid asked. Actually, that was the first thing that had popped into my mind, and I wasn’t really sure what that said about my aunt or me.

“Well, this is where it gets weird,” Bea said. “It turns out the guy’s name is Shawn Eshelman. He worked at the bodega in the lobby of the building John Roy’s law firm was in. The Roys had some car trouble, so for a couple of weeks, Lisa drove John to work and picked him up. Every once in a while, she’d go in to wait for him in the lobby, and Shawn would see her. He’d bring her a coffee or a water and chat her up.”

Bea continued. “Lisa thought he was being so nice because he knew John. That is until the day he came out of the store with a paper bag and handed it to her. Without thinking or understanding, she reached inside and pulled out a magazine. It was one of those filthy pornographic magazines they sell behind the counter.”

“What?” I yelled, causing everyone in the café to turn and look at me. “I’m sorry, everyone. I just found out Bea has never seen Star Wars. I know. Shocking.”

“Why do you insist on throwing me under the bus when you embarrass yourself?” Bea asked with her hand on her hip. “And I have so seen Star Wars.”

“I’m sorry, Bea. I just… I just… I can’t believe this story. Go on.”

“Okay, but control yourself, woman.”

Needless to say, Lisa had been upset by Shawn’s inappropriate behavior and went right to John. He complained to the owner of the bodega and got the guy fired. But what should have been the end of the situation was just the beginning.

“Lisa was obviously unnerved by the experience. So she stayed away from John’s office. But that didn’t stop this Shawn guy. He had found out where she lived and popped up in front of her at the grocery store one day.

“He kept saying he was sorry and that it was just a bad joke. Lisa thought the guy was sincere, accepted his apology and tried to go about her business. But then Shawn kept showing up at the gym and at the post office. It was getting to a point where Lisa didn’t want to leave the house, but she had started to feel as though he were watching that too. He was also telling people that they were dating.”

“This is like a soap opera.” Aunt Astrid said.

“Right? But because he liked to talk so much, he painted himself into a corner. He was telling someone who was close to the Roys that he had been with Lisa on a particular day, and this person knew it was a bold-faced lie. The Roys had actually been with him and his wife that particular day.”

“That had to shut him up.” I assumed a healthy dose of humiliation would be enough for me to tuck tail and run.

“Not even close,” Bea continued. “Instead of cutting his losses, he gets even nastier. The next thing the Roys know is that there are threatening notes being left at their house with obvious signs that someone was trespassing on their property. John would get weird calls at work, and of course Lisa would get them at home. But as Blake said, the guy rode a fine line between legal and illegal activities. There was nothing they could do.”

“So why didn’t Lisa tell the guys about this when they were interviewing her after John’s death?” Aunt Astrid asked. “I don’t believe this Shawn character pushed John out the window, but I wouldn’t rule him out as being involved.”

“Well, here is the icing on the cake,” Bea said. “As it turned out, the guy had gone off his medication and was acting out. But John didn’t know this. So, he paid a couple of good ol’ boys to find Shawn and beat the living tar out of him with the promise they’d keep coming back as long as he did.”

“Okay, now we are starting to sound like Chicago politics,” I said, rolling my eyes.

“Well, maybe so. But it worked. After Shawn had his hind end handed to him, he went to the doctor and got fixed up and back on his medication. This was almost a year ago, and there had been no incident since. But when John’s obit showed up in the paper, this dude wanted to offer his condolences in person. He kept calling Lisa. He sent her a couple of cards. He showed up at her house when everything else failed.”

“And the man who answered the door in his sweats with a shotgun?” I asked.

“That was Lisa’s uncle. We can only assume he was one of the guys who beat Shawn up—just by the way he acted and the way Shawn reacted.” Bea looked at me strangely for a second. “How did you know the guy was wearing sweats?”

I stumbled and tripped over my words, sounding as though I had a stuttering problem. “I don’t know. Beats me. I mean, I mean… just a guess. I mean the guy was a rural kind of fellow, right? You said it right then.”

Aunt Astrid gave me a look up and down as if I might have suddenly sprouted roots for feet, and Bea looked down her nose as if there was something hiding in my hair. Then they looked at each other.

“Anyway,” Bea said, a little too heavily with the attitude, “Lisa didn’t bring it up because nothing had happened for months, and she didn’t want anyone to think badly about John. He paid money for some guys to beat up another guy. It isn’t usually how lawyers handle things. The only other people who knew about it and corroborated the facts were both their parents. Lisa wanted to make sure someone else knew just in case one or both of them disappeared.”

“Good plan?” I asked, shaking my head. “How was this ruled a suicide so quickly if this Shawn guy gets dangerous if he gets off his medication? I don’t know, Bea.”

“Blake is still looking into things, but it looks like Shawn has been on his best behavior for months. And he also has a pretty solid alibi as to where he’s been, including on the day John jumped from the window.”

“I am exhausted after just hearing about all that,” my aunt said. “And it still doesn’t help us with the fact that two people have seen black-eyed kids and both suffered issues.”

“Maybe three,” I said. “Did anyone think that maybe Shawn saw something? Maybe it wasn’t just being off his meds that made him crazy?”

“Perhaps we could pay Shawn a visit,” Aunt Astrid said. “Bea, did the guys mention where he lives?”

“It’s funny you should ask that,” Bea said. “Shawn gave an address to the police of where he’s living in Harrisburg. He’s been there for over a year now. Before that, he said he lived in Prestwick for a couple of years, but the address he gave was for a house that was condemned over five years ago.”

“Is he rich?” I asked. People didn’t just decide they wanted to live in Prestwick. It had to be earned with a trust or a six-figure income.

“Nope,” Bea said. “Said he rented from a guy he never met. To live in this twelve-room house by himself cost him six hundred dollars a month.”

I didn’t have to say it. I could see it on both Bea’s and Aunt Astrid’s faces. Something about this whole situation just wasn’t right. Lisa’s story was bizarre enough, but for this young guy to have lived in the area, renting a mansion for pennies in the vicinity of the woman he had decided to stalk, just seemed too weird.

I thought of how jigsaw puzzles were harder when all the pieces looked alike. This mystery had a dozen components, but I couldn’t see how they fit. I just couldn’t see anything.

A
couple
of days had passed since the stories with the black-eyed children and the stalking of Lisa Roy had floated to the surface. I was happy to see Jake was feeling better since his incident. He was working and feeling more like his old self. However, if he knew how much damage had been done, and what Bea had seen of the energy around his head and heart being all scratched up and beaten down, he might have succumbed to his injuries.

Seeing that kind of damage could lead a person to believe they wouldn’t ever be the same. And maybe Jake wouldn’t be the same after his attack. That was what had happened—he had been attacked by those things. But Bea nursed him along; she whispered her spells while he slept and watched as layer after layer of scarring was removed.

She was really good at healing, no doubt about it.

That night, it was my turn to lock up the café. The nights were getting longer with winter quickly approaching, but we still had sweater weather. I pulled my ankle-length, rust-colored sweater around me and began my walk home.

A thin veil of fog hung in the streets. It gave the streetlamps halos and softened the edges of the houses and fences I passed. Trees and shrubs morphed into giant animals, blending seamlessly with shadows that were already there.

Despite the eerie atmosphere, I felt a strange sense of calm and was enjoying the night as I turned down the street where the Greenstones all resided. I didn’t care what people thought about the prestige that came with a Prestwick address. To me, having my family just a few doors down made me feel very wealthy.

I had my own little house, a little car, and a job that I didn’t ever want to leave. I had clothes to stay warm, and even though I didn’t cook like Bea, I could still open a can of soup and had plenty in my pantry. If only my parents could see me. If only I could let them know I had turned out okay.

I knew Aunt Astrid was probably poring over her immense library, looking for something that alluded to black-eyed children. Bea was most likely fluttering around Jake, making sure everything was back to normal and making sure the doors and windows were locked, not just with a physical latch but with a spell or two as well.

I had decided I might crack open one of those cans of soup, put on the television, and zone out to an old movie or something. I wanted to give my mind a break from all the drama that seemed to be popping up like toadstools.

But as I made the plans in my head, I noticed a familiar-looking car in my driveway. There was only one person who drove a new Jaguar and didn’t live in Prestwick.

I tapped the glass on the passenger window. “What are you doing here?” I asked my dear friend Min.

He must have been really engrossed in thought because he looked as if I’d scared him out of his skin when I tapped. He climbed out of the car. Even in the pale, foggy evening, I could see there was something wrong.

“I was in the neighborhood. We hadn’t had a chance to just talk for a while. You know, just you and I. Can we go inside?”

It didn’t take over a decade of friendship for me to realize Min was terribly upset but trying to keep up appearances. The first thought I had was that he and his girlfriend Amalia had called it quits.

“Well, sure. Come on in. Can I get you something to drink? I’ve got tea, water. Or hot chocolate with marshmallows. And no, not the cat.”

Min barely chuckled and seemed awfully anxious as I pushed the front door open. Looking over his shoulder, up to the sky, then down around the shrubs near my bay window, he made it clear he had a severe case of ants in his pants.

Once inside the foyer, Min quickly turned around and shut the door behind us, slipping the deadbolt into place. Had it been anyone else but Min, I might have been nervous. But since he was my best friend, I held back and didn’t hit him with a restraining spell. Such a spell would have not only frozen his muscles and reduced him to a pile of jelly on the floor, but it also would have made him lose control of his bowels. It would’ve been an ugly mess, but in any other situation, a girl like me would have had no choice.

He peeked out the windows, and I heard him sigh as he kicked off his shoes, an Asian tradition. Just then, I heard the familiar scratching sound coming from the kitchen window.

“Who’s scratching out there?” I said loudly, out of habit, while walking to the kitchen window.

“No! Don’t open it!” Min shouted at the top of his lungs, making both Treacle and me jump out of our skin.

Opening the window, I turned to Min. “What is the matter with you?” I barked, more out of shock than anger. “It’s just the cat!”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know it was the cat. I’m sorry, Treacle,” Min said, reaching down to pet the furry beast that quickly slid away from his hand and instead circled my legs.

“It’s okay, Min. Sit down. Hot chocolate it is. You look like you need it.”

“What’s his problem?”
Treacle asked.

“Don’t know yet,”
I replied in my mind.

I shut the window and went to my pantry to pull out two packets of instant hot chocolate. While I took the tea kettle to heat some water, Min stepped over to the window and gave it a good tug to make sure it was closed all the way.

I didn’t say anything about it. Instead, I yanked the refrigerator door open and grabbed the milk. Other than a half-opened can of cat food, a withered head of lettuce, and some eggs, I had absolutely no food in the house. I could have offered Min some crackers, but I was pretty sure they were stale.

“Okay, Min. What’s the matter?”

He sat down at my small kitchen table that had two mismatched chairs arranged across from each other. In the middle of the table was a small wooden bowl with daintily wrapped bundles of sage that I thought made the kitchen smell earthy and welcoming.

Min cleared his throat and fiddled with his hands. He leaned both elbows on the table and took a big breath, but still nothing came out.

Finally, I put my hand on his arm and spoke. “Min, you can talk to me.”

He seemed to settle and took my hand in his. I could feel him trembling just a little. What the heck was this all about?

“We’ve been friends for a long time, right?” he asked.

“Best of friends, Min. You know that.”

“If I told you something and asked you not to tell anyone else, I could trust you, right?”

“Of course you could, Min. Not a word to anyone.” I looked him in his eyes. “It’s always been that way.”

He nodded as if he already knew that. “But if I told you something that wasn’t normal, that was just impossible to believe, you wouldn’t judge me, right? Or my mom?”

I sat back in my chair. This was obviously more serious than a breakup.

“I love your family, Min. I know what kind of people they are. Nothing anyone could say or do would ever change that.”

He looked away for a second. It was as if he was studying the tile on the floor or looking for some cheat sheet down there that might give him an answer to a question he didn’t know how to ask.

“What’s the matter?”

Min took a deep breath and finally began to talk. He had gone to his parents’ house for a visit. Work had kept him kind of busy, and when he wasn’t working, he was spending time with Amalia. So he bought some fried chicken, which he knew both his parents loved, and headed over to their house.

As usual, Mr. Park was at his store, where he would be until closing around eleven thirty at night. Min told his mother he would hang around and visit until his father was home.

They had just finished eating when there was a loud knock on the door.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

“Are you expecting anyone?” Min had asked his mother who, with a mouthful of fried chicken, shook her head.

Walking quietly through the living room from the kitchen in bare feet, Min got to the door and opened it. There was no one there. He stepped out into the cool evening air and looked around, but not so much as a leaf rustled in a tree. He was just about to step off the porch and look around the side of the house when he heard his mother. She was screaming.