You've Got To Be Kitten: A Paranormal Women's Fiction Cozy Mystery Page 5

  An image of Ruckus squishing a wriggling worm down onto an impaling hook entered her mind’s eye. I miss you a lot, Ruckus.

  “Hello, is there anything I can help you find?”

  Ruby turned about to face a plump man whose bristly beard belied his youth. He stood behind the glass counter, pudgy hands splayed over the more expensive lures. Rods stacked in a line formed a phalanx behind him, ranked from lowest to highest cost. She mentally applied twenty years to his features and nodded to herself. This had to be a relative of original owner Bob Hooker. “Yes, I was hoping to talk to you about Roger Abernathy.”

  The young man’s face scrunched up in a scowl. “What, are you a cop? Or a reporter?”

  “Neither, I’m afraid.”

  The man stared at her for a long moment. Ruby could see the wheels turning in his mind. “Wait, do I know you?”

  “Maybe. Is your name Donnie?”

  “Donnie, it is.”

  “Well, Donnie-it-is, the last time we met, you had just gotten your training wheels taken off.”

  “Son of a gun! Ruby Rivers.” Donnie grinned. “Gramps always said your uncle was his favorite customer. How have you been?”

  “Fine, except for the part where I got accused of murdering my ex fiancé.”

  “Ouch.” Donnie winced. “Well, join the club. Chief Miller stopped by last night to take a statement from me.”

  “Same.” Ruby cocked an eyebrow. “I think Miller was here for the same reason I am.”

  Donnie sighed, seeming ashamed. “Yeah, yeah, yeah…I totally threatened Roger. In public. In front of witnesses.”

  His eyes darted up, filled with a sudden conviction. “You have to understand though, what that A-hole did to me.”

  “I heard he scammed you out of some money.”

  “Like ten grand! That’s not some money, that’s a lot of money. It was supposed to go toward online advertising, part of Roger’s Star Boulevard promotional company. The only problem was, there was no Star Boulevard. There was no promotion, either.”

  “And you didn’t sue?”

  “Oh, I tried, but I didn’t read the contract carefully enough before I signed it. There was a clause that I wouldn’t litigate in the case of ‘total asset failure. You get that?”

  “In other words, you couldn’t sue them for losing your money.”

  Donnie nodded. “So yeah, when I saw him at the bar, I called him out. That doesn’t mean I killed him, though.”

  “Let me guess, you don’t have an alibi?”

  “I was working at the shop, alone. So, no. You?”

  “Not unless you count my cats.”

  “I see.” Donnie tried to smile, but mostly failed. “You, ah, you didn’t actually kill him did you…ha ha?”

  Ruby rolled her eyes. “No, I didn’t kill him.”

  “I heard you kicked him in the Jimmy.”

  “Kneed. I kneed him in the, ah, sexual organ located in the lower abdominal area. You didn’t kill him, did you?”

  “Aw, heck no,” Donnie said, shaking his head. “You know I’m a Quaker, just like my grandpa Bob. We’re pacifists.”

  “You threatened to beat a man to death.”

  “We’re pacifists but we’re only human. I got hot and lost my temper, but there’s a big difference between actually committing an act of violence and talking about it.”

  “Fair enough.” Ruby tapped her enameled red nail on the glass counter as she considered her next query. “Um, Donnie. This might sound like a weird question, but did Roger have any enemies? Ones that might actually do him harm?”

  “Are you kidding me?” Donnie scoffed. “He ripped people off all over town. Somehow, he kept coming out legally in the free and clear.”

  “Well, at least the town stopped hating me for trying to ‘trap’ him into marriage.”

  “Actually,” Donnie said, hissing through his teeth. “Um, actually, now they hate you for a different reason. They think it’s your fault the promising young quarterback turned into a shady con man. Like you broke him or something.”

  Ruby sighed. “I can’t win for losing. So Roger had lots of enemies. Anything else you can tell me?”

  “Yeah, you ask me, all of his schemes weren’t enough to maintain his lifestyle. He had some other stuff going on. Illegal stuff.”

  “Illegal?”

  Donnie nodded. “I heard he was in on moving drugs into Fiddler’s Cove. I’m not talking pot, I mean HARD drugs. Heroin, crack, meth. It would explain why he didn’t suffer during the market crash back in 08. Jerk bought a yacht and named it Still Winning.”

  “What did I ever see in that guy?” Ruby sighed. “Thanks, Donnie. It was good seeing you again. Keep up the good work maintaining the family business.”

  “I do my best. You ever want to toss a line or two, let me know.”

  Ruby walked back onto the boardwalk, feeling a little bit better. At least one person in town didn’t hate her guts. He suspected her of murder but didn’t hate her.

  Ruby worked her way down Archer’s Boardwalk, speaking with people who’d had dealings with Roger. None of them had a flattering thing to say, but none of them recognized her from the old days, either. Ruby wasn’t sure if she should be relieved or concerned that an entire generation had been born into Fiddler’s Cove in her absence, not to mention immigrants.

  Her belly rumbled insistently. Ruby looked about and spotted a familiar sign. The Cheesecake Mill. When she’d been a teen, the establishment was barely large enough to accommodate a few tables and the sales counter. Now, it spread out, having annexed the space formerly occupied by a dance academy.

  What the heck?

  The smell of sweet, creamy goodness enveloped Ruby as she entered the door. A mix of tourists and locals occupied the dozen or so tables. Ruby didn’t see a hostess, so she sat down on a rounded stool at the counter.

  She ordered a coffee while perusing the menu. Ruby felt a blast of fresh ocean breeze stir her hair as the Cheesecake Mill’s front door swung open. A pair of heels clacked on the polished tiles, then abruptly halted behind Ruby.

  Oh no. Please don’t let this be someone who hates me.

  “Rubes?”

  Ruby spun around on her stool and found herself face to face with a fine-featured woman with hair hovering between gray and green. “Trixie?”

  “Ruby, it is you.” Trixie came up and enveloped Ruby in a warm embrace. “How’ve you been?”

  “Well, you know how it is. Local girl returns from the big city, gets accused of murder in the first degree. The usual.”

  Trixie gaped. “They accused you of Roger Abernathy’s murder? Oh wait, you guys dated or something?”

  Ruby cocked an eyebrow. “He left me at the altar...oh, wait, you were away at college when that happened.”

  “Yeah, I heard all about it later, though. Still, if you’d wanted to kill Roger you’d have done it back then, right?”

  “I wish the cops thought the same way you did.” Ruby smiled, comforted by Trixie’s impish, yet wizened, features. As a half sea sprite, she aged more slowly than humans, but the years had taken their toll.

  “Have you ordered yet?” Trixie asked, sitting down on the stool next to Ruby.

  “No, I haven’t.”

  “Oh, then you’ve got to try the caramel cookie. You won’t regret it.”

  Ruby grinned. “Caramel cookie it is.”

  They chatted while waiting for their order to arrive. Ruby was shocked to learn how complicated her high school chum’s life had become.

  “No way. Two kids?” Ruby shook her head.

  “Yeah, and they both have the same father. Suck on that, mean girl clique...” Trixie winced. “Sorry, Ruby. I forgot you used to be part of that group.”

  “Well, I’m sorry I never stood up to Karen when she teased you.”

  “Karen terrified everyone. She still does.”

  “Oh lord, I was really hoping to hear she’d moved away. Or been swallowed by a whale…”

&n
bsp; Cheesecake with Trixie turned into lunch, which turned into drinks, which turned into dinner with drinks, which turned into Ruby staggering along Archer’s Boardwalk while two moons danced in the sky.

  “I’m going to hate myself in the morning,” she muttered. Fortunately, the lighthouse lay at the terminus of the Boardwalk. Lots of tourists like to take photos with the lighthouse as a backdrop. Ruckus had even received a stipend from the city to keep the paint looking fresh on the lighthouse’s exterior.

  So she couldn’t get lost, and she wasn’t quite drunk enough to pitch over the rail into the Sound and drown. Thus, she let her guard down and basked in the warm glow of her time spent with Trixie. It felt nice to have a friend…

  No, I can’t think that way. I’m not staying long. I’ll be back in New York in a few weeks…

  She spotted the end of the boardwalk ahead and began angling for the street. Her tired feet suggested a taxi would have been a nice idea more than her spinning head.

  Ruby passed through a dark alley between a pharmacy and a small grocery store. She’d just stepped into the pool of radiance cast by the buzzing streetlight when she felt something cold and hard press into her back.

  “Don’t move, honey, or I’ll start bustin’ caps!”

  Eight

  Oh great, why do these kinds of things always happen when I’m drunk?

  “If you want my purse, it’s here on my shoulder,” she said calmly. Whoever had a gun pressed into her back wasn’t intending to kill her—yet. Otherwise, she’d already have been shot.

  “Honey, I don’t want yo money,” the urchin put great emphasis on the word money, soaking it with performative incredulity. “I gots plenty of scratch. What I want from you is some information.”

  “Renewable energy is the future, but don’t quote me,” Ruby said, struggling not to laugh.

  “You think this is a game?” The gun barrel pressed harder into her back.

  “No, it’s just not my first mugging. I used to live in New York.”

  “How many times do I gotta—I’m not mugging you.” The voice grew shrill, increasing in pitch. “I don’t go in for that low-level thuggin’ game no more. Now listen up and listen good. You and me are going to take a little walk down to the beach.”

  “Will there be piña colada and long walks in the rain?”

  “What?”

  “Sorry, you’re far too young to get that joke.”

  “How you know I’m young?”

  “Well, there’s your voice, which still maintains the higher pitch of youth, but, with enough bass that puberty was years behind you. I’d peg you at about nineteen to twenty four. Then there’s your Athleisure wear, the tiny sunglasses Gen Z favors, and the way you stand.”

  “How you know all that? I’ve been standing behind you the whole time, honey.”

  “Well, Honey, any pane of glass becomes a mirror if you’re standing between it and the strongest point of illumination.” Ruby gestured toward the shop window, which displayed the two of them in dark resplendence. “You might want to think of that the next time you sneak up on someone.”

  “Dude, I’m wicked stupid.” He removed the gun from her back and motioned toward the beach. “Go on, get walking. We’re going to make like a couple of friends out for a stroll.”

  “Yes, because we totally match.”

  “Watch your mouth. I’ve still got this.” The hooded, bespectacled man moved up abreast of her. He showed her the handle of the pistol he now hid inside of his pocket. The barrel pointed her way.

  “Yes, yes, you’re in charge, you great big man, you.”

  “You are one crazy chick.”

  “Aww, you called me chick.”

  “You like being called chick? When I call my girl—never mind. Forget you heard that, word?”

  “Um…” Ruby had no idea how to respond. “Affirmative?”

  “Affirmative?”

  “It means yes.”

  “Oh. Affirmative. I like that. Going to use that in my next track.”

  “So, you’re a musician?”

  The man slowed his pace, huddling up in his baggy clothes as if he wished to disappear. “Forget you heard that, too! You’d better come down with anthrax really quick, for real!”

  “Anthrax?” Ruby chuckled. “Do you mean amnesia?”

  “No, I mean Anthrax, I’m not stupid.” The man wiped his mouth with the back of his free arm. The other hand remained thrust in his pocket, pointing the concealed gun her way. “I mean that stuff where, like, you know, you can’t remember?”

  “That’s Amnesia.”

  “Yo, whatever.” He shook his head and muttered under his breath. “Got to talk to my producer about editing that track. Anyway, I’m asking the questions here, understand?”

  “Yes, ask away, Mr…”

  “Ah!” The figure pointed his finger at her and did a little dance. A blonde, braided lock fell out from his hoodie over his sunglass covered face. “You be trying to get me to tell you my name! You ain’t dealing with a stupid person, chica.”

  “That’s so sweet?”

  “Yo…” his shoulders slumped a bit, and he took a half step away from her, sidling along the walk. In a few more steps they would be around the corner and down a wooden ramp connecting to the sandy beach. “What is it with you? How come you like being called Chica?”

  “Oh, honey, at my age you don’t get called things like that anymore. People call you Ma’am, if you’re lucky. I guess it took me back to my youth.”

  “Your youth? How old are you?”

  “Probably twice your age.”

  “You don’t look it.”

  “Aww, that’s sweet. But it’s dark, and you’re wearing sunglasses. Watch your step by the way.”

  “What?”

  The man stumbled over a curb and nearly face planted. Ruby could have used the opportunity to flee, to cast a spell, to do any number of things. But she wanted to know why this person had targeted her as much as who he really was under the hood and sunglasses.

  “I said, watch your step. Wearing your sunglasses at night only works for Corey Hart.”

  “Who?”

  “Another generation joke. Sorry.”

  “Yo, I’m supposed to be interrogating you, so shut up until I ask you a question. Dig?”

  They turned the corner and fell into shadow. Mother Moon’s gibbous light grew more distinct, less filtered by man’s artificial illumination. A witch’s power grew in direct moonlight, so long as there were enough shadows about to keep it from being diffused.

  The Sound crawled toward shore with its low, gentle waves. They slapped the shore with little discernible effect. Ruby extended her senses out, more than a mile out on the sound, and checked for the nearby presence of nautical vessels.

  “Alright, why you asking so many questions about that dead piece of crap Roger Abernathy?”

  “Oh, is that what this is about?” Ruby nodded to herself. She felt no ships nearby and considered herself free to begin building up energy offshore. The waves slowed, piling one on top of another. A small hump grew visible a half mile out from shore. “If you must know, I’ve been accused of his murder.”

  “No kidding? Huh. So you’re not an FBI agent or something like that?”

  Ruby burst into laughter. “Oh, goodness no.”

  “But you just showed up out of nowhere, asking questions—”

  “Out of nowhere? I was born in Fiddler Cove.” Ruby’s voice lost its playful lilt. “If you’d bothered to look into things, you’d have quickly discerned that. But you don’t look deeply into things, do you, boy?”

  “Yo, don’t call me ‘boy’.” The man whipped the gun out of his pocket.

  “You are a boy to me, though,” Ruby said as the wind picked up. Offshore, the waves continued to pile up. The hump had become a swell, a slow-moving hill of water nearly tall enough to obscure the lower edge of the moon. “You’re a young Caucasian male roughly in his early twenties, your garbled misapprop
riation of AAVE marks you as a poseur to this criminal lifestyle you seem to effect, so I’m guessing you’re a musician. Am I hitting the mark so far?”

  “Yo, shut up.” The man pointed the gun at her. “I’ll ice you as soon as look at you.”

  “Will you? Then what will you do with my body?”

  “I—I’ll make it disappear.”

  “How? You’re going to have a hard time moving it by yourself. As you’ve said, I’ve been asking questions all over town, and I’m a suspect in a murder investigation. My absence is going to be noticed.”

  “Shut up. You think I won’t squeeze this trigger?”

  “Oh, I know you would, especially since I’ve been giving in to my hubris and provoking you some.” Ruby put her hands on her hips as the wall of water loomed large enough to block out the light of the moon. The man noticed the decrease in light and turned toward the approaching giant. “But you and I know that’s not going to happen.”

  The man didn’t even have time to scream as the wall of water hit the beach. It engulfed his body, spinning him about as if he were inside of a giant washing machine. Despite the depth, and the lack of illumination, Ruby was able to see intricate amounts of detail.

  As a hydrokinetic, she couldn’t drown, magically drawing in oxygen molecules from the surrounding water in a poorly-understood autonomic response. Her eyes could see the ebb and flow of varying currents in the wave as it washed over her, carrying her would-be assailant with it.

  The water drew back, bathing the wooden ramp and turning the timbers a darker hue. As the wave receded back into the Sound, Ruby remained spotlessly dry.

  “Never mess with a Water Witch right next to the ocean, you dummy,” Ruby said. She looked about and didn’t see her assailant anywhere. “Oh dear. I got a little carried away.”

  Ruby retraced her steps to where she’d first been accosted by the gunman but found no sign of him. She traced the presence of the water molecules still adhering to his person until the trail abruptly cut off. The gunman had entered a vehicle of some sort and escaped from Ruby’s sensory range.