Grave Alchemy Page 7

  “Hi, Zoey,” Harvey said and turned to Detective Morgan. “I think we can let her go now. It appears that she had a valid reason for being at the scene. Her family runs the local funeral home, and she was there at Mr. Pratt’s request.”

  “Thanks, Harvey,” I said as I moved toward the door with Basil once again riding on my shoulder.

  Detective Morgan scowled at Harvey as he called out, “Don’t leave town.”

  I turned and replied, “Wouldn’t think of it.”

  “Why do you keep getting caught, Zoey?” Harvey asked as he accompanied me out of the station.

  “You make it sound like I do it on purpose. They were too fast, and I wasn’t expecting company.” Once we were out on the sidewalk, I asked, “Can you drop us at my car?”

  “You yes, the parrot no,” Harvey replied with a smile. “Gargoyle claws tend to make a mess of leather.”

  “How am I going to get home? It’s too far to walk.” My car was still at Phineaus’ house, two miles away.

  “I don’t know—Uber, taxi? You’re quite capable of getting home on your own, Zoey. And try to stay out of trouble. Please.”

  I mock saluted him as he headed back to the station. “Yes, sir.”

  Do you know how hard it is to get an Uber or a taxi that'll take a parrot, let alone an uncaged one?

  I eventually called Skye and pleaded with her. “Can you come to the police station and pick me up?”

  “Police station? What on earth have you done now?” Skye asked. “I’m in the middle of shopping.”

  “I’m getting tired of being a bird. Move it, witch,” Basil interrupted.

  “I’ll be there when I get there, buddy,” Skye shouted and hung up.

  “Nice going bird. We’ll be lucky if she comes at all now. What’s your problem?”

  “I’m tired and cold, and I want to go home,” Basil said as he shivered. I guess feathers don’t have that much insulation and the breeze was a bit chilly.

  “Need a ride? I’m sure I can get one of the uniforms to drive you,” a voice said from behind us.

  Detective Morgan stood on the steps looking down at us—was he trying to be friendly now?

  “I just called a friend, she’ll be here soon, but thanks anyway.”

  “Okay, I’ll just wait with you. That’s a unique bird. I think he needs a bit of training though.”

  “Training? Ha, that’s funny. You know what they say about old dogs and new tricks…meet Basil,” I replied.

  “Pot, kettle,” Basil mumbled in my ear.

  “You could try bribing him with doughnuts,” he offered.

  “You know, he understands what you’re saying.”

  “I’m sure he just recognizes words and repeats them.”

  As to prove a point Basil turned around, stuck his tail feathers up in the air and mumbled, “Moron.”

  “You poop on me and you’re a dead bird,” I threatened, poking his wing.

  Basil turned around, twisted his head sideways and stretched toward the detective. “Ben Dover, Ben Dover,” he screeched.

  “Be quiet Basil, you’ve been nothing but trouble all day. Ignore him, Detective.” I was overreacting, but I was tired and couldn’t help myself.

  “You don’t have to keep calling me Detective—it’s Liam. I don’t think you two had anything to do with the deaths. Mr. Dover certainly wasn’t pecked to death,” he looked pointedly at Basil. “And Mr. Pratt seems to have had a stroke, so it might have been a burglary gone bad. It’s probably an isolated incident, but we’ll know more when we find the gun. Until then, stay out of trouble.”

  Right at that moment, Skye pulled up and saved me from the detective’s attention. I couldn’t figure out why he was suddenly being nice to me, but I wasn’t about to get friendly with the jerk. I put Basil in the backseat and we drove off. What a day; I needed food and a nap, then I’d try to figure out who had shot Felix and had stolen Phineaus Pratt’s soul. And why was Felix masquerading as Ben Dover?

  “So, what did you do this time?” Skye asked as she headed to my car.

  I related the whole episode, including Basil’s act at the police station.

  “Wasn’t he the reaper you were hot for years ago?” Skye asked and giggled. “And what on earth was he using that name for?”

  “I was only 12 and yes, that was Felix. He was on the fast track to level 8 when he dropped out of sight. I didn’t know he’d left Oregon, let alone that he was living here.”

  “You had such a crush on him.”

  “I did not.”

  “Did too!” Skye argued.

  Basil finally interrupted, “You knew the dead guy? Wow, you’ve got a good poker face.”

  Felix Sharpe, aka Ben Dover, was a boy I had met as a teenager while on vacation in Pumpkin Bay. We hadn’t stayed in touch, but I had heard the rumors. He was the first level four reaper to be elevated to level seven, without the elite family connections to smooth the way. There was a lot of confusion when he resigned; the word on the street was that he went rogue. He might have been lured by the money; his family wasn’t poor, but they didn’t have a lot. Rogues worked on contract and the payoffs could be huge—much more than the council paid us. The trouble was, rogues didn’t care what happened to the poor souls they snatched. They were usually sold to feed wraiths, while others ended up in limbo or just disappeared into nothingness. There were people who collected them like china cats and frogs. I knew a frog collector once, he had every type of frog in creation: live, stuffed and pottery. I never understood the need to have one of everything. Reapers weren’t easy to kill, mainly because we can disappear, but getting shot would do it. Who would have wanted Felix dead? Maybe that mysterious figure in Phineaus’ backyard had something to do with his murder.

  Basil climbed up on the backrest and nudged Skye’s head. “Can we stop for doughnuts?”

  “We’ll eat when we get home, Basil. Now leave Skye alone.” I sunk down into my seat and closed my eyes.

  Skye handed me a bag when we reached Phineaus Pratt’s house. “Here, put the brooch thing in one of these boxes. If it’s cursed, it will protect you. They’re lined with lead.”

  “Are we goin’ after the killer?” Basil asked as we transferred to my car. “I’m a great private eye, we can solve this ourselves. I don’t think those cops are smart enough to figure it out.”

  “Later. Let’s just go home first.”

  Chapter 8

  Basil’s attic had become the place to be in our house; whether it was discussing the day’s events or playing the latest video game, there was something for everyone. Basil and I were curled up on the huge sectional with a bowl of popcorn, watching a movie. We’d had a few normal days, no hiccups, all souls present and accounted for.

  “Looks like everything is back to normal. Maybe that scroll thing was just a glitch,” I said between mouthfuls of popcorn. “The council probably found the problem and fixed it.”

  “Do you really believe that? What about the undead?” Basil asked.

  “You mean Zombies?”

  “No, I mean the guy who should have been dead.”

  “Howard? That could have been one of the glitches.”

  “Don’t think a few cops will scare off the soul stealers. We should investigate,” Basil replied. He’d been a pain for days, just itching to see Phineaus Pratt’s hidden room behind the bookcase, and investigate Felix’s death.

  The police had cordoned off the Pratt house, and I wasn’t about to break in just to satisfy Basil’s curiosity. I reasoned that we could wait until they finished and then sneak in. My calls to Uncle Iggy had remained unanswered. Since Phineaus was a friend of his, I thought he might want to know about his death, and his missing soul. He could arrange for us to enter the house legally, but then again, he’d probably just tell me to mind my own business.

  “You might be right, they probably won’t stop,” I sighed, “and two people I know have been injured or killed.”

  “The human cops won’t
figure it out, so that leaves the SIB and us,” Basil said while licking the butter that coated his long fingers. “And the SIB isn’t taking this seriously.”

  “Us? What make you think we can solve it?” I asked. “I'd like to figure out what that stuff in the hidden room is though.”

  “I’m good at solving puzzles. What do we know so far?” Basil continued, ignoring me. “Someone has been altering the scrolls, Noah was shot and one reaper is dead. I bet it’s all related.”

  “I don’t think so,” I replied—I wasn’t sure Basil was on the right track. “If the two shootings were related, then we have to believe that both Noah and Felix were looking into the scroll issues. Felix was a rogue, there’s no way he would care why it was happening. He’d just take advantage and snatch as many souls as he could.”

  “So, he could have been killed by a rival rogue,” Basil concluded, “they fought and Felix lost.”

  “That’s possible. Or the person behind the changes killed him, or had him killed. Specific souls are being targeted; Felix could have been caught trying to snatch one.”

  “We need to know how he died. Did the bullet kill him, or was it something else?” Basil was warming up to my line of reasoning.

  “If it was something else then why shoot him?” I asked.

  “To confuse us, of course, to make us think the killer was human. We should make a list of who or what can kill a reaper and not leave a mark.”

  “What’s the point in that? You’re making this more complicated than it needs to be.”

  “To eliminate anyone that wouldn’t bother using a gun,” Basil insisted.

  “Wraiths—given enough time they can suck the life out of anything, but they can’t hold a gun. Neither can souls, ghouls or ghosts for that matter.” For the time being I decided to humor Basil. He was going to go off on a tangent, whether I agreed with him or not.

  “What about Bella? She doesn’t seem to have a problem holding objects,” Basil stated, reminding me of Bella’s unique ability.

  “She’s a rarity, but point taken. Demons, they’ll just rip you to pieces if they get a chance.”

  “There haven’t been demons around here for eons. So we can forget them,” Basil added.

  “How about witches? They rarely use physical violence and a curse is more their style.” That reminded me of something else. “I should check in with Skye and see if Noah’s up to having company.”

  “Good idea, but we’re talking about Felix. Didn't we decide that his death wasn’t related to the attack on Noah?”

  “Oh, you’re right. I got sidetracked,” I replied and continued. “There’s the shifters, but I can’t see them bothering with a gun. That leaves us with the big guy, Death.”

  “Ever meet Stewart?” Basil asked.

  “No, but I saw him once, and he scared the crap out of me. He’s huge, like 7 feet tall. He showed up on Uncle Iggy’s doorstep; he had to duck to get in the door, and that scythe. I’ll never forget that thing.”

  “Stewart’s just misunderstood. He’s a nice guy, but he’s a bit nuts. His clones were one of his more ridiculous ideas. It wasn’t hard to tell they were fakes.”

  “Really? He cloned himself? Is that what you alluded to at Uncle Iggy’s?” I shuddered; the image of multiple seven-foot-tall Deaths were now imbedded in my mind. “Anyway, he just has to think it and poof, you’re dead.”

  “So, Ben Dover,” Basil snickered, “had no marks except for the gunshot wound.”

  “You mean Felix; I’m not sure, but that should be easy to find out. I'll ask Harvey. And if it’s true, then the only suspects are an unknown witch and Stewart.”

  “Wait, we forgot about the angel sword,” Basil added. “That kills and doesn’t leave a mark.”

  “You’re right, hmm.”

  I told Basil about the flash I’d seen in Phineaus’ backyard. It was possible that the person I saw had been holding an angel sword.

  “Was this someone a human?” Basil asked. “And if so, why would a human be after souls?”

  “I couldn’t tell. It was dark, and he was hiding in the bushes. I have no idea why a human would want to collect souls.”

  “How about we turn up ten minutes before your next pickup? We can keep watch and catch the thief in the act. Then we’ll follow him. I bet he’ll lead us to whoever is behind it.”

  “That won’t work. The odds of someone showing up are zero, the times aren’t changing anymore. Anyway, even if they were, I don’t want to end up dead. But, you know what’s strange? There were time oddities in Oregon, but when they started here, they stopped in Oregon.”

  “Must be you then,” Basil quipped. “When did they start here and are you sure they stopped in Oregon?”

  “Ha ha, I have nothing to do with it. I’m not sure when they started though. Greg said they’d stopped, but it might be just a lull. I can try Walter again, he’ll know.”

  “So, call him, find the answers.”

  I was batting zero by the time I hung up the phone—no one was picking up, I’d left messages for both Walter and Harvey.

  “Guess we’ll have to wait, no one is answering.”

  As I stacked the empty popcorn bowls on the table beside the stairs, my phone rang. It was Skye calling to let me know that Noah was looking forward to seeing us, and he needed a break from his mother’s nagging.

  “Want to go see Noah?” I asked Basil.

  “Yeah, we'll pick his brains.”

  Noah was trussed up like a mummy, with plaster and bandages covering his upper body. He would be discharged in the next few days and couldn’t wait to get out of the hospital. He had no idea who had shot him, but he did remember meeting with Sam Wheatly earlier in the day.

  “Sam wasn’t much help. He said he had no idea that there was a problem.”

  “Actually, I’m surprised he talked to you at all,” I replied. Sam had blamed Noah for his sister Jane’s death. A wraith had attacked and killed her a few years ago, and there was nothing Noah could have done to stop it. “Is he still holding a grudge?”

  “He seems to have gotten past that, he was quite friendly,” Noah replied, but I could still hear the sadness in his voice.

  “I’ll go and see him tomorrow. See if he’s found out anything,” I said as we left the room.

  “Do you have a last name?” I wondered if Basil was alone in the world, or if he had a family somewhere?

  “No. Why should I?”

  “Just a passing thought. Did you come from a long line of gargoyles?”

  “I’m a shifter; it’s a rare trait for a gargoyle.” Basil’s gaze grew unfocused, as if he was lost in a memory. “Don’t need family hanging around.”

  There was something Basil wasn’t telling me—maybe he was an outcast. He looked so sad that I decided a joke might raise his spirits. “How about Rathbone? As in Basil Rathbone.”

  Basil’s smile stretched all the way up to his ears and he laughed. “I like it. I’m beginning to like you.”

  “You mean you didn’t before?” I frowned; that hurt a bit.

  “You can be a bit stingy and rigid, but you mean well.”

  “Rigid? I’m not rigid.”

  “Are too, you’re all, my way or the highway,” Basil said while making air quotes.

  “Well, someone has to be in charge and I got stuck with it. And I’m not stingy, just careful. If you and Annie had your way, we’d be broke. And you’re kinda whiny yourself, you know.”

  “Am not…I said I’d pay you back,” Basil pouted, “and I will. Stanley’s will cleared probate, and the executor says I’ll get my money next week. I’ll be able to build my own house if I want.”

  My heart gave a lurch at the thought of him leaving me. “I thought you liked it here?”

  “I do. It’s my Plan B, in case things go south.”

  Surprisingly, in just a week or so, Basil had become a member of the family. I’d been sure that he wouldn’t last more than a few days before moving on. But now, I’d hat
e to lose him. Heck, even Bella had fallen under his spell. “Does that mean you got the house in Oregon?”

  Basil shifted sideways and muttered, “Yup.”

  “So, that stuff about being thrown out wasn’t true? I should have known. What are you going to do with the house?”

  “Probably sell it.”

  “How much was Stanley’s estate worth?” I asked, thinking this might mean I’d actually get reimbursed for all the toys he’d accumulated.

  Basil fiddled with his phone and handed it to me with a sheepish smirk.

  “Wow, I haven’t seen that many zeros in a long time,” I gasped. “You’re rich!”

  “Told ya.”

  “This phone is cool. Is this the latest one?” I asked as I swiped through the screens. “I’m jealous.”

  “Here,” Basil smirked as he handed me a box. “Don’t say I never gave you anything.”

  He must have ordered two, which meant I had paid for both of them. But it was a cool phone. “Thanks, Basil. What color is it?” I asked as I ripped open the box. “Yellow, I love it. I gotta show Annie!”

  “In that case, here. Take her this,” Basil smiled as he handed me another box.

  I was going to have to check the balance on that credit card, the last thing I needed was for it to be maxed out. I veered away from the bedrooms when I heard laughter coming from Annie’s makeshift salon.

  “What’s all the noise?” I asked as I pushed the door open. Sitting in Annie’s chair was Natasha, with tin foil sticking out of her head.

  I was never going to be rid of this woman. I‘d been hoping she’d stay away, find some other friends or just hole up by herself. No such luck.

  “Hey Zoey, Natasha was telling me about her encounter with Brian. She went to The Breakers last night and saw him at the back of the bar. When he started waving his arms, trying to get her attention, he knocked a beer right out of a guy’s hand and it spilled all over the girl standing next to him. That started a fight, the guy punched Brian and sent him crashing into a waitress who was delivering a tray of nachos,” Annie explained.