Murder Under a Mystic Moon

  I shuddered. “Jimbo, our friend, is on his way. Maybe you know him—he’s a regular visitor up here in the biker’s enclave. Big guy, does a lot of hunting and trapping out here. He should be here any moment. There must be another way out if you got in here. If you could point us in that direction, we’ll probably run into him out in the meadow.”

  Bear chuckled. “So, you were told to stay out of this area and you didn’t listen. Now you get yourself lost and you want my help.” He turned to Cathy. “Why are you really here?”

  I interrupted before Cathy could speak. “Just looking for the monster again. We were on our way out when the cave-in happened.”

  His eyes narrowed and he turned back to me. “I don’t trust you. Just what have you been up to? What have you got there?” He pointed to the windbreaker that I was holding. “Why don’t you show old Bear what you found?”

  And then I knew, in the pit of my stomach, that he was going to hurt us. I whirled, grabbed Cathy by the hand, and pulled her back toward the passage in which I’d found the jacket. “Move it!” Once we were in the tunnel, we might stand a fighting chance of losing him, or of finding a way out.

  Bear sprang forward as we stumbled out of his reach. Cathy whimpered as I forced her along, but to my relief, she offered no resistance. No time for hysterics, no time for tears. We needed to run, and run fast. I put myself on autopilot, letting my inner guidance take over. It was the only help we could count on for now.

  Once in the tunnel, I turned right, following gut instinct. The gradient of the floor shifted, leading us upward. Maybe this was a good sign. Maybe this would lead us to another entrance onto the mountain? A glance back showed me the feeble beam bobbing from Bear’s flashlight as he raced along behind us. Damn it! If only we had a few minutes head start.

  “Oh Nanna,” I whispered as I ran. “If you can hear me now, then help me! Please help me.”

  A thud echoed in the corridor, and Bear swore up a blue streak. I tossed a quick look over my shoulder; there was only inky blackness behind us. Either he’d dropped his light, or his batteries had run dry. I dragged Cathy along, jogging as fast as I could without falling over my own feet.

  As we stumbled along the pebble-studded passage, I could hear Bear struggling to follow us. He could probably see our light, but if we managed to gain enough ground, he wouldn’t be able to see anything and maybe one of the rocks littering the tunnel would trip him up. Trip him up. Hmm. I whirled around and tossed my walking stick in the middle of the path, then sped up the slope at a dead run. So awash in her fear that I could have sensed her a mile away, Cathy struggled to keep up.

  I was panting by the time we rounded a bend in the passageway.

  There, ahead to the left, a faint light filtered out of an opening in the rock wall. As I ran toward the light, a figure shimmered into view, leaning against the archway. There—thanks be to all the heavens—stood the spirit of my Nanna, haloed in gold. Dressed in the Bavarian dress we’d buried her in, with her ever-present apron, she gave me a big smile, then pointed behind her, into the chamber.

  Cathy skidded to a halt. “Who—is she?” she managed to gasp out.

  “My grandmother. Congratulations, you’ve just seen a ghost. Now, come on! Hurry!” I yanked on her hand. Just then, we heard a groan and a loud curse from a ways behind us. I had the suspicion that Bear had discovered my walking stick. The hard way.

  We ducked into the opening, and found ourselves in a small, natural cavern; a sinkhole, really. A shaft of light streamed in from above through a hole in the roof. A ladder was propped up against the hole.

  I shoved Cathy over to the ladder. “Get going.”

  As she scrambled up the rungs, I took a quick look around. The cave was obviously being used as a hidey-hole. There was a bed on the floor, made of blankets and sleeping bags, and a propane camping stove. Boxes and bags littered the room, as well as a pile of clothing and a basket full of potatoes and apples.

  Cathy was halfway up the ladder by now, so I began my ascent, clambering up. As she rolled out onto the ground, I followed suit. A jolt of inspiration hit me and I grabbed the top rung of the ladder.

  “Help me pull it up!”

  She took hold of the other side and together we managed to drag the ladder out of the cave and drop it on the ground next to the sinkhole. Bear wouldn’t be following us this way, not unless he managed to get all those boxes stacked, and by then we’d be gone. Unless he knew of yet another exit.

  We were standing on a slope. Below, to the left, the patch of mountain ash glistened like green gold in the sunlight. A little farther left, I could see a dusty path leading down the slope; it appeared to head directly into the strip of meadow where I’d parked the car. We had to get down there before Bear was on our tail again.

  “We don’t have time to rest,” I told Cathy. “There could be other passages leading out and we want to get our butts away from here before Bear pops up again. My guess is that this mountain is riddled with tunnels and he probably knows them all.”

  I pulled off my pack and stuffed Clyde’s jacket in it, then shouldered the rucksack again. Murray would want to see this, and I’d be damned if I let Bear get away with attacking us. I’d be filing a report on him for attempted assault.

  As we navigated our way down the mountainside, we saw no sign of the biker following us. I kept a close watch over my shoulder, but we managed to hit the meadow not far from where I’d parked the Mountaineer. I unlocked the doors, tossed my pack in the back, and climbed wearily into the driver’s seat. Cathy said very little as she fastened her seat belt. I turned on the ignition, grateful for the comforting sound of the engine, then wheeled around and headed out of Klickavail Valley as fast as I could. When I found Jimbo, I’d wail on his head for spacing out on us.

  WE WERE WELL along the highway before I felt comfortable in pulling over to the shoulder and punching in Jimbo’s number. Still no answer. It was past eleven and, worried, I called Murray at work. She wasn’t at her desk, so I left a message telling her that we’d had some trouble and asking her to call me when she could. Next, I tried Joe at work. He was there, and I gave him a full rundown on what had happened and how we’d escaped. “I can’t get hold of Murray or Jimbo and I’m worried about them.”

  He exploded. “You’re worried about them? Emerald O’Brien, you could have gotten yourself killed! Running into a mine shaft? What were you thinking?”

  All too aware that Cathy was sitting right next to me, I said, “What was I supposed to do? Leave her in there when I thought she might be dying? You would have done the same thing I did and you know it! Besides, I didn’t know it was a mine shaft until after I had already headed down the tunnel.”

  Joe inhaled sharply. “Yeah, yeah, I know. What did you say this guy’s name was?”

  “All I know is that he goes by the name of Bear.” It felt good to have somebody worry about me. When I’d been with Roy, his concern was always focused on his own well-being. “Can you meet me at my house in twenty minutes?”

  “Probably not, but I’ll try to be there by three. And Em—” He paused.

  “Yes?”

  “I love you. And don’t you forget it.” Click. He hung up.

  I stared at the phone, a rush of warmth rising in my chest. He loved me. He really, truly loved me. Feeling as if I could take on a whole slew of Klakatat monsters, I flipped the phone shut, shifted into gear, and headed back to town.

  As the forest disappeared behind us, I took a deep breath and let it out, slow and easy, then glanced over at Cathy. She was gazing out of the window, and she looked a mess. She must have felt my stare, because she turned to face me and, with the most sincerity I’d ever heard out of her, said, “You saved my life. Thank you, Emerald. I never meant to put us in danger. I was so scared that I wasn’t thinking.”

  “Forget it,” I said. “Next time, don’t be so all-fired up to rush into a dangerous situation. That’s one experience I don’t
want to repeat.”

  Her eyes flickered. “Trust me, I’m never setting foot in another cave.”

  “Technically, we entered an abandoned mine tunnel, though there were natural caves back there that the miners appear to have broken into.”

  “Technical-schmecnical. I don’t care what you call it, I’m never going underground again.” Another moment and tell-tale signs of the old Cathy emerged. “So, is this what you do for fun? Get lost in caves, hang out with ghosts and creepy bikers?”

  My frustration, which had been building up all morning, broke free, flooding out like a tidal wave on steroids. “Remember, you’re the one who wanted to go out there. You could have gone alone, but I’ll wager twenty to one that you wouldn’t have come out alive. And why on earth did you tell Bear that we were lost and alone? Are you blind? Couldn’t you see that he was dangerous? You come in my shop, invade my privacy, plaster me on television without my permission. You sic your goober of a cousin on me and then when he gets in trouble, you come whining for me to help you. Just what do you expect out of me, Cathy? Because I’d really like to know!”

  The reservoir dry, I focused on the road, watching as the pavement passed silently beneath the car.

  Cathy didn’t answer for a few minutes, and when she did, the controlled, perpetually-on reporter was back. “You could have said ‘no’ so don’t blame me for what happened. I didn’t know it was an old mining tunnel. And I never met this Bear. How was I to know he was dangerous?”

  “Not your fault? You’re the one who ran into the cave after I told you not to! You’re the one who shrieked and brought down the roof. You’re the one who fell into a sinkhole and told Bear that we were alone!” I took the turn onto Main Street at a sharp angle, heading straight for the shop, where I screeched into my parking space. I jumped out and stomped over to her side, where I yanked open the passenger door.

  “Out, now! And don’t bother me again, or I swear I’ll hex you up one side and down the other! You’re a power-hungry bimbo!”

  Cathy leaped out and faced me, nose to nose. “At least I’m not some dippy tea shop owner, who thinks she can predict the future. How did you pull that little trick with your ‘Nanna’?” She jabbed me in the chest with her finger.

  I stared at her for a moment, then reached out and gave her a little shove. “You’re a lousy reporter. You stink so bad that it’s no wonder why L.A. or New York doesn’t want you. You should count your blessings they let you keep the job you have.”

  She stared at me for a moment, open-mouthed. “I can’t believe you said that! I’m not a bad reporter, I’m good—really good! They just don’t know talent when they see it. I’ve got bigger balls than Dan Rather and Walter Cronkite combined!”

  As she stood there, wild-eyed, hands on her hips, makeup smeared, hair sticking out in all directions, covered with leaves, twigs and mold, a well of laughter rose up from the pit of my stomach. Then I caught sight of myself in the shop’s reflection. I looked just as bad. The dam cracked and I dropped to the curb, hee-hawing so loud that I snorted.

  “Oh jeez, can you believe us? I’m just glad nobody’s standing around yelling ‘Cat-fight! Cat-fight!’ ”

  Cathy sputtered. “You sound like a hyena,” she said, but the next thing I knew, she was sitting next to me, laughing so hard she was crying.

  After a few minutes, I gasped, trying to catch my breath. “What’s next? Pistols at fifty paces?”

  “Anything, just as long as we don’t have to go back to that goddamn cave.” She wiped her eyes on her sleeve, wincing as she brushed against the scratch on her head. “Oh God, I needed to blow off some steam.” She flashed me a tentative smile, which I hesitantly returned. “You know, the truth is that I’ve never had such a scary morning in my life. It was kind of exciting, though.”

  I’d had a few that were worse, but I let it go. “Yeah, it was pretty dicey. I’m glad we got out of there alive. How’s your head feeling?”

  “Like I nosedived into a brick wall.” She took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “Look, I’m sorry about the dippy comment. And the one about your grandmother’s spirit. I know what I saw. She was there. But you have to understand, that’s the first time I’ve ever seen a ghost. Does your grandmother help you a lot? She looked like she was really concerned.”

  “Yeah, she drops in every now and then. My Nanna was a wonderful and wise woman.” I thought for a moment, then decided that if Cathy could be big enough to apologize, so could I. “I’m sorry I called you a lousy reporter.”

  She stood up, heading toward her car, then turned back to say, “You’re right. I know it. Hell, I try hard enough, but I know I’m never going anywhere. But hey, that’s life, I guess. Thanks for helping me out. Let me know what you find out about that jacket. I just wish we could have found something to prove George didn’t kill Clyde.”

  “Me, too.” I thought of the glasses in my pack and prayed that they would be George’s salvation, but I had a sinking feeling that maybe, just maybe, they would be his undoing. Hoping I was wrong, I waved as Cathy took off. I turned back to my shop. Thank God it was Sunday and I didn’t have to work. Lana had opened up on time, I saw, and was waiting on Mrs. Bartleby. I didn’t bother poking my head in to say hello and just crawled back into my car. As I pulled away from the curb, it occurred to me that Cathy and I had actually managed a civil good-bye. Well, Nanna always told me that miracles could happen. Maybe she was right.

  WHEN I REACHED home, I found Harlow leaning against the porch railing, talking to the kids. I hugged her as I asked Randa if Jimbo or Murray had called.

  “Nope, not that we know of, but we haven’t been home long—just since Harlow got here. Mr. Ledbetter said it would be okay. Eww… you stink bad!”

  I opened the door and kicked off my mucky shoes as I headed toward the phone.

  “Is something wrong, Em?” Harl asked.

  I nodded. “Yeah, big time. Would you mind fixing the kids something to eat while I try Murray again?”

  “Sure.” She herded them into the kitchen.

  I picked up the phone and punched in Murray’s number yet again. This time, she answered.

  “Em, there’s been an accident,” she said, before I could say a word. “Jimmy was hurt early this morning.”

  I pushed my bangs off my face. Jimbo was hurt? My voice trembling, I asked, “Oh my God. What happened? Is he okay?” Visions of his bike colliding with a semi ran rampant through my mind and I steeled myself for the worst.

  “He got up on the damned roof to straighten his TV antenna and fell off. He busted up his ribs so bad he couldn’t stand up. He also managed to land on a rake and tore open his thigh. One of his neighbors found him when he came over to ask Jimmy to make Roo stop barking.”

  Relieved, I slumped against the wall. “Is he going to be all right?”

  “Yeah,” Murray said, sighing. “We were at the hospital all morning, and we just got back to my house. Jimmy’s not at all happy about the situation and he wants to go home, but I won’t let him. He needs to rest and if he goes back to his house, he’ll hobble around trying to get stuff done.”

  “Jeez, well at least he’s going to be okay!” I felt like a louse for being so mad at him. Now I couldn’t shake the image of Jimbo lying there, waiting for help while Roo howled by his side. I wished I’d dropped by his place first, before we went into the valley.

  “How about you? What happened this morning? Your message was pretty cryptic. Jimmy felt bad about letting you down.”

  I grunted. “Cathy and I had big trouble out there. I really need to talk to you about it. Any chance you could come over? I’ve got a couple of things to give to the police, too. I found Clyde’s jacket and wallet, and George’s glasses.”

  Murray sucked in a breath. “Woof. Okay, let me pack up Jimmy so he doesn’t get any ideas about wandering off on his own. See you in a few minutes.”

  I hung up and filled Harl and the kids in on Jimbo?
??s accident, trying to circumnavigate my own encounters that morning. Kip and Randa didn’t need to worry about me anymore than they already did.

  “There have been a lot of weird things going on the past year, you know?” Harl had made a pot of tea and she pressed a cup in my hands.

  I gratefully breathed in the soothing scent of mint, needing to calm my jangled nerves. “You can say that again. Harl, this area is some sort of psychic powerhouse and I don’t think that anybody is going to pull the switch in the near future. Since I seem to be a magnet for weird, maybe that’s why I get caught up in all these bizarre happenings.”

  “Uh huh, sounds about right to me.” She peeked into the teapot. “We’re empty. I’ll make some more tea.”

  She put the kettle on while I asked the kids to give us some privacy. They ran off to the backyard and I took the opportunity to tell Harlow everything that had happened.

  “Em, that would have scared the piss out of me.” She winced and shifted in her chair. After a few seconds, she relaxed.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  “Nothing. I’ve been having mild labor pains for a few days. Just gearing up for the real event, I guess. My doctor said that there’s nothing to worry about, that I’ll know when it’s time. And it could be any day now.”

  “Oh babe, your doctor is right. You’ll know when it’s for real.”

  The doorbell rang and Murray stumbled through the door, Jimbo leaning on her shoulder. He groaned as she helped him into a chair.

  “Say, O’Brien, I’m sorry I didn’t show up this morning.” He grimaced, clutching at his side. “I don’t think I would have been much help.”

  “So where are the things you found in the cave?” Murray asked.

  “In the car, in my pack.” I grabbed my keys and was headed toward the door when the phone rang. It was Roger White, from the fire station. Every possible tragedy in the book raced through my mind. “Is it Joe, is he okay?”