A Grave Mistake (18 page)

“It seems?”

“Well, no one was actually with him, of course, but he was lying in bed and looked peaceful when he was found.”

“What about his personal aide?” Jolene asked. “Wasn’t she there?”

“Personal aide?” The nurse frowned. “I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

“What was her name?” Morgan screwed up her face. “Wendy! The girl with the long, strawberry blonde hair.”

The nurse gave her a puzzled look. “You must be confused. We don’t have anyone with long, strawberry blonde hair here and besides, none of the patients have personal aides.”

Panic bloomed in Fiona’s chest. Wendy was a fraud? If so, who
was
she and why pretend to be Finch’s health aide? Did she have something to do with Finch’s death? And did
that
have something to do with the pestle? A quick glance at her sisters told her they were asking themselves the same questions.

“Okay, thanks,” Morgan said to the nurse, then to her sisters, “Let’s go. There’s nothing we can do here.”

Fiona’s shoulders slumped as they walked to the car. “What do we do now?”

“I’m not sure.” Morgan got into the driver’s seat and the rest of them piled in. “We need to track down this Wendy impostor.”

“This is getting weird,” Jolene said. “You don’t think Finch met with foul play, do you?”

“I don’t know,” Morgan started the car then sat there worrying her bottom lip as she let the car idle. “It’s all very suspicious. What was Wendy doing in Finch’s room? And why pretend she was his private aide?”

“And what did she really want when she showed up at our shop?” Fiona added.

“Yeah, that can’t be a coincidence,” Morgan said. “I just wish—“

“There she is!” Celeste yelled, pointing to a lime green Kia that sped out from behind the building past them, a mane of long, strawberry blonde hair flying out the window.

“Let’s follow her!” Jolene shouted. But Morgan didn’t need to be told—she’d already jammed the car into gear and had the pedal floored in pursuit.

“Where is she going?” Celeste asked as Morgan dodged Main Street traffic, which was mercifully scant due to it being the off-season.

Looks like she’s headed down Thurgood Road,” Jolene said.

“I think she’s going to the Finch farm,” Fiona added.

“Damn it!” Morgan laid on the horn as a tractor pulled out in front of them, slowing them to a crawl.

“What is a tractor doing out in November?” Celeste asked.

“It’s Nelson Brown, getting ready for his winter hay rides.” Jolene rolled down her window and leaned her upper body out. “Nelson, pull over. We need to get by!”

Nelson pulled to the right and they swerved past him.

“Darn, it’s too late. She’s gone.” Fiona's heart sank. She squinted at the empty road in front of them, searching for a glimpse of the Kia.

“That’s okay. I just know that she’s going to the Finch farm.” Morgan turned down the road that led to the farm. “I feel it in my bones.”

She took the road as fast as she could, slowing down only enough to navigate the hairpin turn without going off the road.

“There’s her car!” Jolene pointed toward the lime green Kia sitting next to the Finch farm. Morgan pulled in beside it, but it was empty and there was no sign of its driver.

“Where did she go? Is she in the house?” Fiona asked as they piled out of the TrailBlazer and surrounded the Kia.

“It looks like she went this way.” Jolene pointed to fresh tracks in the snow that led out across the field toward the cemetery.

“The cemetery?” Morgan started following the tracks. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised."

The snow wasn’t very deep, only about an inch, but Fiona was glad she had worn her heavy boots as she jogged up to the graveyard behind her sisters.

As they drew closer to the graveyard, Fiona scanned the outline of the familiar shapes of the stones, looking for the distinctive silhouette of a person, but there was no one to be seen.

“Where is she?” Celeste shaded her eyes with her hand. “Is she hiding behind one of them?”

They mounted the steps to the graveyard and spread out, walking slowly, each of them looking behind the stones.

“Look!” Jolene pointed toward the back of the cemetery where the mausoleum sat, silent and cold, just as it had on their previous trips … except this time, one of the doors yawned open.

A cold chill skittered up Fiona’s spine as she stared at the black interior beyond the door. “Do you think she’s in there?”

Morgan shrugged. “I don’t know what the heck she would be doing in there, but my gut tells me we better check it out.”

“Wait,” Jolene cautioned. “She could be leading us on a wild goose chase. She’s probably partnered up with Bly. This could be a trap.”

Morgan paused. “It could be, but if so, all the more reason to get in there. She knows something about the pestle. I can feel it.”

“But we might not be able to defend ourselves…” Jolene looked down at her hands.

“Well, I still have my killer karate moves,” Celeste said.

“Plus we have our amulets,” Morgan added.

Fiona fingered her amulet. The amulets and mica refractor would help them with the defensive maneuvers of deflecting any energy headed their way, but without Jolene, their hopes of mounting an offensive paranormal attack were nil. And she doubted they could win with only defensive moves.

If only I could get my act together, I might be able to help defend us. Otherwise, we might need help,
she thought, then out loud, she said,
“
Maybe we should tell Luke. He can send the guys to help us out.”

Morgan made a face, then turned toward the mausoleum. “There’s no time for that. I’m going in.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Fiona stood in the doorway to the mausoleum while her eyes adjusted to the lack of light.

“This is a lot bigger than I thought,” Celeste said.

Fiona could see she was right. The room itself was much larger than it appeared from the outside and it looked to have short corridors or niches that sloped downward in all four corners. She wondered how far underground it went … and hoped they wouldn’t have to find out.

“Look!” Jolene pointed to the floor and Fiona recognized a trail of Black Crow licorices.

“Swain?” Morgan’s forehead creased. “What is
he
doing here?”

“He double-crossed us!” Jolene said.

“No, he wouldn’t … would he?” Images of Swain’s mother laying ill at their house flitted through Fiona’s mind. Swain obviously cared deeply about his mom. Would he double-cross them when his mother was in their care?

“I have no idea.” Morgan stepped further inside. “This whole case is getting weird.”

Fiona and her sisters followed Morgan into the damp interior. Fiona’s eyes were pretty well adjusted now and she could see copper plaques on the walls, their faces tinged with green from age. The smell of damp earth and decaying leaves tickled her nostrils. She stifled a sneeze.

“What now?” Celeste whispered.

“I guess we’ll start over there.” Morgan pointed to an opening on the north end and they shuffled their way toward it.

Creak!

Fiona whirled around, her heart thudding against her ribcage. The door swung inward behind them, partially blocking the light. When it swung out again, a dark figure blocked the entry.

“Looking for this?” The figure stepped out of the shadow and Fiona could see he was holding the malachite pestle. Her eyes went from the pestle to his face. Her breath caught in her throat. In the doorway stood one of her least favorite people—Sheriff Overton.

***

Sheriff Overton?” Morgan’s voice rose in disbelief. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here for the relic.” Overton stepped closer, hitching up his pants over his generous stomach with his free hand, a toothpick dangling out of the right side of his mouth.

“What makes you think we have it?” Morgan asked, and Fiona breathed a sigh of relief that they’d given the mortar to Gordy to take back to the house.

Overton snorted. Do you girls think I’m stupid? I know what you’ve been up to. I’ve been checking up on you.”

“What makes you think we’d just give it to you?” Jolene asked.

“First of all, it’s no good without this.” A spark of light from the open doorway glinted off the pestle and threw a shard of green light across the room as Overton dangled it in the air. “And second of all, I have something you want to trade for it.” He jerked his head toward the corner.

Something stumbled forward out of the darkness as if it was pushed. Fiona’s heart clenched when she saw it was Swain, tied up with rope.

“I’ll trade you Mr. Swain, here, for the mortar,” Overton said.

“What?” No way. We’re not giving up the mortar for him. We don’t even know him that well.” Jolene’s eyes slid over to Swain, who looked cool as a cucumber even though he was tied up like a sack of potatoes. Fiona’s eyes locked on his and she noticed his widen, then he dipped his head and extended his hip slightly.

Was he trying to tell her something?

“There’s only one mortar and one pestle. We can’t
both
have them, so why not just give the mortar to me?” Overton switched the toothpick from the right side of his mouth to the left. “I’ll keep it out of Bly’s hands
and
hand over Swain in exchange—
after
you get the mortar for me. But I’d decide quickly, or it could get ugly.”

Fiona glanced at her sisters. Sure, Overton would keep the relic away from Bly, but his plan for it might be just as objectionable. But they had to get Swain out of his clutches somehow.

Overton shifted his weight impatiently. “You have one minute before I unleash my secret weapon.”

Morgan’s brows shot up. “Secret weapon?”

A wind gusted from the back of the mausoleum, kicking up a patch of dried leaves that chased each other around in a circle. The wind got stronger and then someone stepped out from behind Swain.

“Wendy!” Morgan gasped.

Wendy smiled, her hair flying out as if caught in the wind. The obsidian pendant dangling from her neck twisted and swirled against her chest.

“You were working with Overton this whole time?” Jolene asked.

Wendy nodded.

“You’re not Finch’s health aide?” Celeste asked.

“No.” Wendy laughed. “You actually fell for that?”

“But why?” Morgan looked from Overton to Wendy and back again.

“I planted her there to keep track of what you girls were up to,” Overton said. “At first, it was because we wanted to ask Finch questions, but when we saw that you girls kept coming to see him, we figured you must think he had important information, so we stuck around to find out what it was
you
were asking.”

“So, you were the one who stole the pestle from the police evidence,” Jolene said.

“Yep. It’s pretty easy to appropriate evidence for your own private collection when you are the sheriff.” Overton looked at the pestle. “I’ve had this darn thing for years now, just waiting on the mortar.”

“Why wait until now?” Celeste asked. Fiona noticed her sister was inching her way over toward Swain one tiny half-step at a time when Overton’s attention was on someone else.

Overton’s face flushed. “I didn’t know it was in town until recently.”

“Where did you think it was?” Jolene had moved an inch toward Swain, too.

“I thought someone had taken it way back when the fire happened. It was assumed that’s why the pharmacy was burned in the first place. I thought it was just dumb luck that they didn’t get the pestle.”

“You never noticed the mortar in the rubble from the pharmacy?” Morgan looked at Overton incredulously. “I thought the police went through it thoroughly.”

Overton made a disgusted face. “No. Apparently my deputies weren’t very swift back then. Last week, I heard it was in town but didn’t know where. The last place I thought it would be was in the rubble from the fire. My boys were supposed to have gone over that with a fine-tooth comb. But once I heard you girls were looking for it, I figured you’d lead the way.”

“So you followed us,” Fiona said.

“Yep. And I had Wendy here keep you girls in line.”

Morgan’s brow creased. “Keep us in line? What do you mean? And why did you say she is your secret weapon?”

Wendy laughed and puffed out her cheeks.

A sharp wind ruffled Fiona's hair. It picked up quickly, almost knocking her off balance. Her hair whipped around her face, the ends stinging her cheeks. She grabbed onto the wall and leaned into the wind to steady herself.

“What the heck?” Fiona yelled, but the wind whipped her words away and all she could hear was a roar in her ears and the pounding of her own heart.

The wind stopped abruptly and Fiona stumbled, before correcting herself.

“See?” Overton said smugly. “My friend Wendy here has a way with wind and I amped up her powers with that locket you girls were so nice to give me the last time we crossed paths.”

Wendy held up the obsidian amulet. “And thanks to you girls, I have my gifts with the wind to strike out at whoever I want to stop and this amulet to defend me against others’ energy.”