That night, Striker stopped by after work. Given what I had found out about the tea, I felt a bit awkward about my assumptions about his intentions.
“Are you getting some work done on the place?” he asked as he took two pieces of ricotta pie out of a bag. My mouth watered. It was from Earline’s Diner, and her ricotta was my favorite.
I panicked and blurted out, “No.”
He looked at me funny. “Steve Wheeler said he came by.”
“Oh, right. I was just thinking maybe the bathrooms are a bit small. Wanted to see what my options were.”
Striker handed me a piece of pie. He didn’t seem bothered about a potential bathroom renovation. Maybe he didn’t care, or maybe I was making too much of it. Probably the latter.
“Sounds like a good idea. I’m happy to help if you need it.”
We settled down in the living room. The paperweight sat uselessly on the coffee table in front of us no matter how many times I looked at it.
Pandora sat at Striker’s feet, shooting me knowing glances and then tilting her head toward Striker. “See, he’s perfect. He brings pie.”
She had a point, but of course I couldn’t answer her, so I just smiled at her and made shooing motions. I felt bad for her. She had shown no interest in going to Elspeth’s barn, saying “What’s the point” in a defeated voice when I had asked her earlier.
“So, how is the case going?” I asked, trying to be subtle.
“Some interesting developments.”
That caught my interest. “Really? Anything you can talk about?” I shoved a piece of pie into my mouth. It was rich and creamy, sweet with just a hint of almond.
“It seems like Danielle Norden might not have an alibi after all.”
I glanced at Pandora. All this time we’d been focusing on Felicity and hadn’t looked into Danielle because we thought she had an alibi. Had Danielle lied? If so, that moved her to the top of my list.
“But what was her motive?” I asked.
“It turns out the two had competing blogs. Recipe blogs or something.” Striker waved his hand dismissively as if recipe blogs were of no consequence. “There was some sort of rivalry, I guess, and the fact that Danielle lied about her alibi makes us a little suspicious.”
It made me suspicious too. “You think she would kill someone over a blog?”
“It’s extreme, but I’ve seen people kill over less. We need to check it out anyway. She does say a witness saw her leaving Mary’s before the time of death.”
Probably Jennifer Jones, though Jennifer hadn’t mentioned it.
“What about Felicity Bates? I heard Gus questioned her too.”
Striker’s brow quirked up. “You certainly are up on this case. Do you have an interest in it?”
I shrugged, feigning indifference. “Just making conversation. Mary was a good customer, and I guess I’m just curious.”
“We did, but she had the best alibi of all. She happened to be buying a book from you.”
“Don’t you think that’s a little convenient?” I asked. Even though it appeared as if Felicity couldn’t be the killer, I still secretly wanted it to be her. I wondered if Felicity could rig the receipt. Maybe she had computer skills or had done it with magic. I couldn’t tell Striker about the magic though. He wasn’t totally on board with it even though he could see ghosts. But Danielle was a more likely candidate. She had been overly angry about me selling the book to Mary and had lied about her alibi. That pointed to guilt right there. But was Danielle after the key, or did she really want the book for her blog? Looked like I’d be having a little chat with Danielle.
Striker finished his pie, put his plate on the coffee table, then pulled me toward him and gave me a kiss on the side of my head. “Let’s look on the bright side. At least we haven’t seen any ghosts in this one. Now, enough talk about investigations. We have more important things to do.”
* * *
* * *
After Willa went to bed, Pandora snuck out her usual escape route in the basement. She didn’t go to the barn though. Seeing the cats she could no longer talk to was too depressing. There was someplace else that was much more important to her right now. Gladys Primble’s backyard.
If only she could obtain the instructions for the portal. They would come in handy if they wanted to try to open it safely, but she couldn’t ask the cats to hand them over. Even if she could talk to them, she doubted Inkspot would allow it. And besides, digging them up would require human intervention. They were buried too deep and needed someone with shovels. Felicity was too weak to do it herself, but maybe she had convinced someone to do it for her. Pandora needed to see if they’d been dug up.
It was late at night, and the streets of Mystic Notch were empty. The moon was a crescent in the sky that lit her way. Not that she needed light. Her superior vision enabled her to see practically in the dark.
She stuck to the wooded areas, avoiding the feral cats for fear that she wouldn’t be able to talk to them either. She didn’t need anything to make her more depressed.
When she got to Gladys Primble’s modest house, she discovered she wasn’t alone.
Otis was crouched down behind a shrub at the edge of the yard, watching the very spot where the instructions had been buried. No one had been digging, which meant that Felicity didn’t have them. Time was running out, and they had no idea how to open that portal box safely.
The last cat she’d wanted to run into right now was Otis, so she turned to run, but he’d spotted her.
“Meow!” he said, probably to needle her about not being able to understand him.
Pandora remained silent.
To her dismay, he trotted toward her. She resisted the urge to run, which would make her look cowardly.
He sat down next to her, looking from her to the yard in an attempt to communicate. Was he trying to communicate without words?
Pandora nodded.
Otis passed his paw over his eyes and then pointed toward the spot. He was trying to tell her that he was keeping watch. Great, now Felicity would never be able to get at the instructions even if she had found a way.
But Otis had no way of knowing how important those instructions were to Felicity and Pandora, and Pandora appreciated his efforts to keep them safe. She bowed her head slightly, hoping it would show her appreciation but not deference.
Otis nodded and pointed back toward the woods, indicating that she didn’t need to stay. Either that or he just wanted to get rid of her.
Otis was being nice, and she did owe him. After all, he had guzzled down a potion to save her. Lucky thing he hadn’t had to resort to the most selfless thing—the breath of life. If he’d done that, they would be bonded for the rest of their nine lives.
She turned to go, but then his paw on her leg stopped her. She turned around and looked at him. She could see sympathy in his fiery orange eyes.
She nodded again, and then she turned and ran.
Somehow the sympathetic gesture from her archenemy was worse than all the other things that had happened to her.