Spooky Spider Read online

  Grant finished with his deputies just as the three of us were sitting down. He strode over looking serious.

  “Thank you all for coming. I know the mansion is short-handed at the moment and that you have busy days,” he said.

  “What news do you have about the murder?” Cookie wanted to know.

  “Nothing yet. We’ve taken Orwell in to be interviewed and should know more after the enchantments have been cast.”

  I made a mental note that we’d have to wait until at least tomorrow to visit Orwell and the Spider Mounds. Just as well. They were creepy.

  “The truck stank of enchantments. You aren’t going to learn much that way,” said Cookie.

  “There’s always something to learn. Even the type of enchantments that were used will tell us something,” he said.

  Cookie appeared to acknowledge this truth, if grudgingly.

  “Is there anything else you can tell me?” he said.

  Cookie didn’t even blink as she shook her head. My grandmother was still annoyed that Grant had found out that Blu was an assassin, so there was no way she was going to tell him anything else.

  “We don’t have anything else to tell,” she informed him. “There was a murder on the property, and I can assure you that all I wanted was a case of wine.”

  Grant nodded. This was very believable.

  “Do you know who hired Blu?” I said.

  “We’re working on it. Having Mr. Nutcracker show up this morning was a distraction. Now that he’s gone, we’re trying to stay focused,” said Grant. “What happened the last time he was here?”

  I was surprised to see that Grant appeared to be as unsettled by Mr. Nutcracker’s presence as we had been.

  None of us said anything.

  He waited us out.

  Eventually Pep told him. “He came for our fathers’ funerals.”

  “I’m sorry. I should have realized,” said Grant, his eyes filled with sadness.

  “You couldn’t have known,” said Pep.

  Grant cleared his throat. I wondered how much he did know, given his access to decades’ worth of investigative files. Had he looked into the biggest attack on haunt hunters in the history of witches and warlocks?

  If he was as good and as famous as everyone said, it seemed likely that he had indeed read the story.

  Suddenly I wanted nothing more than to change the subject. “Can you let us know when you hear anything else?”

  Grant nodded.

  As Cookie began to get up out of her chair he said, “One more thing before you go.”

  Cookie sat back down.

  “Under no circumstances do I want any of you to leave the property. I’d also prefer that none of you go out late at night. I know the supernaturals need a lot of tending, so that might be too much to ask, but please be careful if you do need to go out after dark.”

  He gazed slowly from one face to another. Cookie looked like she was trying hard to appear as if she cared what he said.

  We all—probably even Grant, to be fair—knew she didn’t.

  “We’ll do our best,” said Lark.

  “I guess that’s all I can ask,” said Grant reluctantly. Really, he wanted to ask a lot more, but he held off. He knew we wouldn’t listen anyway.

  “We should get to work,” I said, standing up quickly before Grant could change his mind about interrogating us. He hadn’t even wondered out loud where we’d been that morning, despite the fact that Mr. Nutcracker had mentioned Down Below out loud.

  “Who were the two people with you when Mr. Nutcracker showed up?” he said.

  “Tenants. So I guess your neighbors,” said Cookie, a grin slicing across her face.

  “Ah, I thought Jacob looked familiar,” said Grant. “I haven’t seen them around much.”

  “Usually they have the decency to keep to themselves,” Cookie shrugged. “Sometimes they get out, though. Don’t we all?”

  “I hope you aren’t hinting that you plan to disobey my requests?” said Grant.

  “Of course that’s not my plan,” said Cookie. She frowned as if she was trying to remember if she had a plan to disobey him or not. As a matter of fact, she did. If we were to fly to find my mother and my aunt, we would definitely not be doing what Grant asked.

  Just then the front door slammed and we heard Audrey’s voice calling out in concern.

  “If you don’t mind, I’ll go explain things to her,” said Cookie.

  She marched out, and we followed.

  Audrey did not take the news of another murder at the mansion well. She was especially concerned about the bit where somebody was trying to kill Cookie.

  Unsurprisingly, that was the least of Cookie’s concerns. After she brushed off everyone’s worries, we all got back to work. I desperately wanted to investigate both cases, but I knew that if I didn’t get my chores done around the haunted house I’d be in big trouble.

  With my mom away, the supernaturals were left to talk to Cookie. But Cookie spent the afternoon working on her cauldron, where no supernaturals chose to approach her.

  “Do you think part of the reason she’s working on the cauldron is that it offers a good view of the crime scene?” Pep asked.

  It was just before dinner, and this was the first I’d seen of Pep all afternoon. She’d been working in Enchanted Bits and Bobs while Lark and I worked on the boxes stacked in the foyer.

  “I think it gives her a good vantage point in relation to pretty much everything,” I said. “I shudder to think what that woman sees.”

  Dinner that night was a very quiet affair. Audrey spent most of it stabbing her fork into the chicken breasts she had cooked, unhappy with all of us generally. Somehow she felt like she would get blamed when Mom came home. Cookie tried to assure her that only Cookie ever got blamed, but Audrey didn’t believe her.

  To make herself feel better, she had also done some experimental baking. Fizzy water cookies, plantain mud pie, and herbed bacon were all untouched on the table.

  After dinner, Lark and I said we were going to work for a while in the haunted house. She had banners to hang in the Trophy Room of Disappointments, and she needed someone to hand her scissors and tape.

  “I wish I could come help you two, but I need to finish up a couple of things in the shop,” said Pep.

  “After you’re finished, I want the three of you to meet me out back,” said Cookie when she was sure Audrey wasn’t listening.

  “Will do,” I said.

  There were several supernaturals around when Lark and I got to the haunted house, so I waved and said hi.

  “Excuse me. I wonder if I could speak with you for a moment,” said Jezebel, a ghost who been around for a year or two. She was friendly and nice and my mom liked her a lot.

  “Of course. What can I do for you?” I asked.

  Jezebel looked nervously over her shoulder at the other ghosts who were standing there watching her. They had clearly picked her as the one to do the talking.

  “I should be talking to your grandmother about this,” she began, “but I just can’t bring myself to do it. But the other ghosts will be angry if I don’t talk to someone.”

  “Go ahead,” I said.

  “We’re all familiar with Cookie being scary,” Lark called out from across the room, where she had gone to get started on the decorating.

  Jezebel gave a weak smile. This joke seemed to loosen her up a bit.

  “It’s just that one of the cottages has a light on at all times of the day and night. It keeps some of us from resting,” she explained.

  I blinked in surprise. “Aren’t ghosts usually awake at night anyway?”

  “We usually are. But some of us take shifts resting. Of course we rest during the day as well. It’s just strange, because the light usually isn’t on,” she explained.

  “It’s not on all night?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “That’s the thing. It only flashes on and off sometimes. It’s very strange. Since it was coming from Miss
Scott’s place, I thought I’d mention it. She’s been there a long time, and the other ghosts say it’s never happened before. I thought she might be having a problem.”

  Now I frowned. “It’s probably good that you mentioned this to me and not Cookie.” Because they don’t get along, I added silently.

  Jezebel brightened. “I knew you’d understand.”

  After that little conversation I went over to help Lark. “What did she want?” Lark asked. “I didn’t hear the rest of it.”

  When I told her, Lark was surprised. “I didn’t picture Jezebel as the up at all hours of the day and night sort.”

  “I didn’t either. They say the lights are very strange,” I said.

  “It kinda sounds like enchantments,” said Lark.

  “What would she need to be performing enchantments for in the middle of the night? Besides, she must realize that there are supernaturals about, so the lights are likely to be seen,” I mused.

  We worked in silence for a while. As I helped my cousin, I started to notice more details about the room.

  “This is one depressing room,” I said, looking around.

  We were in a space that had been made to look like a high school hallway. On either side were broken trophy cases that held trophies rewarding individuals for failures instead of successes. One said “Congratulations, all you’ll ever amount to is visiting a haunted house.” Another said “You lost every game this season.”

  “Who dreamed up this stuff?” I asked, thinking it was mean.

  “One guess,” said Lark. “We’ve had this room for years, but it’s been stored away for a long time. Mom thought we needed something new this year, so we got it out.”

  “I take it Cookie came up with the motif and the inscriptions,” I said.

  “Right you are,” Lark agreed. “I think the last time it was used was in nineteen eighty-five.”

  “It will certainly give visitors a fright,” I said. “What else?”

  “We have to hang two more banners. Then I have to sweep the floor. There are also a couple of old lockers that need to be put up,” she said.

  “Where are the lockers?” I asked her.

  Lark pointed to the next room over, which turned out to be just as bad as this one, decorated as if it was a deserted forest.

  Usually we didn’t use any enchantments on a room itself. Meg took it as a point of pride, and she also thought it would be easier to spot something strange going on if there were no enchantments to add to the confusion.

  The enchanted forest room was a little different, though. Meg had used just enough of an enchantment to make it seem larger. You could easily get lost in a haunted forest the size of a basketball court.

  I found the lockers Lark wanted and dragged them back to the high school hallway, then helped her sweep, and then we were done.

  “Shall we head outside?” she asked, sounding as nervous as I felt.

  Chapter Eleven

  It had been years since I’d flown. If I were being entirely honest, I’d have to admit that part of me hadn’t really thought Cookie would agree to help us. Now that she had, I was nervous.

  Most witches flew only very rarely. For one thing, the average witch did not have owls around ready and waiting to help. The average witch also didn’t have a cliff to jump from, and the average witch did not have an ocean to fly over.

  Flying is one of the most dangerous things a witch can do. When I was younger, my mother hadn’t even wanted to teach us how. Cookie had of course insisted, and my mother had finally caved.

  I think my mother’s resistance came in part from the fact that she didn’t believe we’d ever actually need to fly. Even though she gave in to Cookie at one level, she won the argument in another by making sure we never got past the beginner’s stage.

  In short: there was no way we could fly without a more experienced witch instructing us as we went. Mom had let Cookie teach us the basics, but she had also given her strict instructions never to take us out flying without her permission.

  Cookie had of course promised to do as Mom asked, crossed her fingers behind her back, and called it good.

  I had never really had a desire to fly. My mother probably thought I was obeying her, but the truth was, it didn’t really interest me. Where was I supposed to go? Besides, it would just remind me of the fact that I was a witch, and I already knew I was a witch.

  Lark was a little different. She had always wanted to fly, and a couple of times her mother had taken her out when my mom was away. Pep had always gone to watch, but she never participated.

  When the three of us found ourselves walking through the mansion, heading out for a nighttime excursion with Cookie, I wasn’t sure what the evening would bring. All evening I had been reminding myself of the simple flying lessons I had gotten long ago, trying to make sure I hadn’t forgotten anything important.

  The only problem was that I probably had.

  As we were nearing the kitchen, Rose dashed up.

  “Just what do you think you’re doing?” she asked.

  “We’re going to get my mom,” I said.

  “I thought as much,” said Rose. “And how are you getting there?”

  “I have a feeling you already know the answer to that question,” I said.

  “I heard Cookie muttering about it earlier,” said Rose.

  “You heard her or you were eavesdropping on her?” I asked.

  “To me there’s really no distinction,” said Rose.

  We reached the kitchen just then, and Lark pushed the door open. After checking to make sure Audrey wasn’t there, Rose followed us through. Rose sometimes pretended to respect Audrey’s prohibition against cats in the kitchen, but whenever Audrey wasn’t around she snuck in anyhow.

  “I see you sent the cook away,” said Rose. Tonight she was wearing a neon blue aerodynamic suit.

  “She went to lie down. She felt like we were causing her stress,” I said.

  “I want to come with you,” said Rose.

  “You know that we’re flying? With owls,” I said.

  Rose usually avoided the owls, most of the which could have eaten her for dinner if they wanted to. Obviously they would never do that to one of our pets, but the threat was still there.

  “You’ll be there to protect me,” said Rose with confidence.

  “Why do you want to come?” I asked.

  We were stalled in the kitchen, unexpectedly having to make a decision about Rose before we could get outside to rendezvous with Cookie. I knew Rose wouldn’t give up the fight readily once she’d made up her mind, but on the other hand there was no point in taking her out there and letting the owls see her, only to send her back inside.

  “I like a field trip as much as the next witch,” said Rose. “I don’t want to be left here by myself.”

  “I don’t think you’ll come to any harm,” said Pep.

  “This place is becoming a hotbed of murder. I really don’t see how you can promise anything of the kind,” said the cat.

  I tapped my foot. She did have a point, even if I didn’t like it.

  “Very well. You can come. Just don’t upset the owls,” I cautioned her.

  “The owls better not upset me,” Rose muttered.

  Now it was four of us heading out onto the dark lawn. I couldn’t help but glance first at the storm door and then in the direction of the cottages.

  The storm door looked like it always had. There was a heavy chain over it that did a great job of making an onlooker think it was locked.

  Lights winked in the most distant cottage, and I wondered if Grant was at home. Given that there was a fresh murder to investigate, I doubted it. Evangeline’s light was also on, but that wasn’t unusual. She preferred to stay in, so she was rarely away from home. She got along well enough with my mother and had perhaps missed her company these past few days.

  “Ready to go?” Cookie asked, marching up to us holding a broom, which was for show only since brooms weren’t necessary
for witches to fly.

  She also looked like a circa World War II pilot, having donned goggles and a hat that covered her ears.

  “You understand that you don’t need that broom, and we aren’t flying a plane?” I asked her.

  “The broom isn’t for flying,” Cookie snapped.

  “Forgive me. I was confused,” I muttered.

  “There is no forgiveness for witches,” said Cookie cheerily.

  Over her shoulder, Lark looked at me and rolled her eyes.

  As I had feared, the owls weren’t happy about the idea of Rose coming with us. Fights and feuds between different animals in the witch world weren’t uncommon, and Rose was combative at the best of times. At the moment she was sitting on the ground with her tail swishing angrily. She glared up at the lead owl, whose eyes didn’t blink.

  “You would think you’d have a little more humility,” said the owl. “I could swoop down and eat you, you know.”

  “Not with all these witches here,” said Rose.

  “So you hide behind your owner. Is that not also cowardly?”

  “I prefer to think of it as practical,” said Rose.

  “Still, you can’t come,” said the owl.

  “She’s coming. I don’t want her left here,” said Cookie.

  For the first time, the full import of what we were doing dawned on me: we were proposing to be gone from the mansion, all at the same time.

  Not for long, but still.

  Audrey was there, but she didn’t know we were leaving, and she wasn’t a witch.

  “Who’s going to look after Uncle Taft?” I asked, suddenly feeling guilty.

  “I asked Evangeline,” said Cookie through gritted teeth.

  “That must have been hard for you,” I said.

  To make matters worse, Grant had told us not to leave, and here we were preparing to fly away. If he came looking for us, there was no way Evangeline would cover for us. I just had to hope he’d be too busy to think of it.

  Cookie gave me another sharp look. “I’ve done a lot worse in my time. It wouldn’t do to leave him or the haunted house undefended. Evangeline is an experienced witch and is unfazed by murder. The property is in good hands.”