Late that night…
The inn was blessedly quiet in the late hours of the night and the early hours of the morning. It was one of my favorite times to be awake, snuggled up in bed with Cocoa Puff, Sunlight, and a paperback—usually by Agatha Christie or Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.
Tonight, unfortunately, I couldn’t hang out with my cats and read.
I had a mission for the first time in months.
Gamma had allowed me the use of the night vision contact lenses we usually reserved for serious recon. They were state-of-the-art, pulled directly from her secret armory underneath the inn, and they adjusted to the light automatically.
They cast a green haze over the first floor hall of the inn, highlighting the spooky Halloween decorations—bats, skeletons, and a witch’s hat perched on a rickety table in one of the many nooks. No, phantom cat in sight.
And, was it just me, or were there less Halloween decorations on this floor than I remembered?
I’d specifically hung an excess of skeletons tangled in fake spider webs, and… what on earth? There was only one locked in an eternal battle with the webbing. Had I imagined putting up that many skeletons?
Halloween is getting to me. I’m spooking myself out.
I checked my watch. 12:10 a.m.. No sign of the white cat, and apart from the occasional creak of the old inn settling after the day’s heat, there wasn’t any noise either. Had Violet been lying on both accounts?
She definitely lied about the dust on her mirror.
I waited on the first floor, dead still, a practiced crouch that I could hold for hours if necessary. After another twenty minutes had passed, I finally rose and headed for the staircase.
If Mrs. Walker wanted to keep me awake for whatever reason then I’d at least get something out of it. Namely, a snack.
I entered the darkened kitchen, inhaling the scents of the day’s cooking and baking. Lauren had outdone herself lately, tackling the catering of the wedding and the usual breakfast, lunch, and dinner meal services for the guests at the inn.
“Here, cupcake,” I whispered. “Where are you?” I opened the door of our massive silver fridge and poked my nose inside.
I’d long ago gotten over my obsession with eating only rabbit food and protein. I exercised every day, but heaven knew a cupcake sated my appetite more than a celery stick.
The fridge was empty of cupcakes, but there were plenty of custard slices prepped and ready to go for tomorrow’s wedding. It was a small affair, with just fifty guests in attendance, and Lauren always prepared extra desserts, just in case.
I considered them.
I could sneak one now, and she’d… well, she’d definitely know the difference. Lauren counted her baked goods because of my late night snacking habit.
My stomach grumbled, and I reached for the box of custard slices.
A plangent meow came from the kitchen door.
I jumped and nearly knocked my head on the top of the fridge. So much for being a hyper-aware ex-spy.
Sunlight, my ginger kitty, sat in the doorway, watching me. He meowed a second time.
“Shush.” I pressed a finger to my lips. “We don’t want to wake the guests, do we?”
But Sunlight wasn’t fooled. He knew I was up to no good.
“What? I’m hungry.”
Sunlight meowed again. He flicked his tail, which was most unusual for him and rose onto all four paws.
“Are you OK?” I asked.
The cat gave a final meow before… entering the kitchen! I sucked in a breath. The cats weren’t allowed in the kitchen under any circumstances and Sunlight definitely knew the rules. He wasn’t a disobedient cat. Mischievous, sure, but not a rulebreaker.
“Sunlight, you know that’s not allowed. Come on. What are you doing?”
He darted past me and jumped onto the kitchen counter.
“Sunlight!” I hissed and chased after him. “Come on now. That’s not…” I hesitated.
The cat pawed at a piece of paper on the polished countertop.
Lauren left the kitchen spotless every night, so that definitely wasn’t meant to be there. I walked over and picked up the note. Sunlight batted my arm, lightly, then leaped off the counter and darted out of the kitchen.
Wait a second. Had he come in here just to show me this paper? Not a piece of paper. A note.
And it was addressed to me. I walked over to the fridge and opened it, reading by its light and shivering at the chill that passed over my skin.
For the attention of Miss Charlotte Smith,
My name is Julia Childless. You may know me as the bride from the wedding the Gossip Inn will be catering tomorrow.
I am writing to you because I am in desperate need of your help. I believe that I am in grave danger.
“Grave danger?” I murmured. The way this letter was written didn’t make sense. Julia knew who I was. She’d shouted at me earlier in the day. Also, she was in her twenties. Why would she write that she was in “grave danger”? Surely she’d say something a little more colloquial?
I straightened the letter and continued reading.
There are two murderers after me. Two people who want to see me dead, and I need your help catching them before they finish me off. Please. I need your help. I am begging you. I will pay you to find and stop them before they kill me.
Sincerely,
Julia Childless.
No signature underneath the name, and no contact details either. Why ask for my help, offer to pay me handsomely, and then leave no method of contact?
There was something fishy going on here.
“But she did accuse Lauren of trying to poison her,” I whispered. “Maybe she’s just paranoid?”
I folded the letter and tucked it into the pocket of my PJ shorts for later dissection. My grandmother would want to take a look at it too.
There were two options in my eyes. Either Julia had indeed written the letter and she was a paranoid, forgetful, young woman, or someone else had penned it and left it here for me to find.
Either way, I was intrigued. And I’d be paying the bride a visit first thing in the morning.