Nine Lives (Lily Dale Mystery #1)(94)

Thank goodness. Thank goodness he’d told the truth about something.

“I heard them shouting,” Luther says, “and they said they didn’t know how the door got locked behind them.”

She shudders at the thought of her skittish son trapped in the dank, old cellar, but it could have been worse. Much, much worse.

Then she realizes something. “Wait a minute—you said the cat was down there with them?”

“Right. When I opened the door, all three of them came running out. Max brought her right back upstairs to her kittens, though. He was worried they were hungry. And speaking of magic . . . he told me that the cat can walk through walls.”

“I was almost starting to believe the same thing,” she says, knowing that the tunnel must open into the basement. “But I was wrong.”

About so many things.

“I have to get back home, Luther. I can’t leave Max alone.”

“He isn’t. Pandora Feeney is with him and Jiffy.”

Well, speak of the devil. Except she isn’t the devil after all. She’s just a gossipy local biddy.

Maybe even a magical one, Bella thinks, remembering the bluebell.

“Why is she there?” she asks Luther, unsure whether to be dismayed or relieved at the news.

“You’ll have to ask her that. She’s the one who called me at the hospital and asked me to meet her at the house as soon as possible. She showed up just as your text came in, and I told her to stay so that—what’s the matter?” he asks, seeing the look on her face.

“It’s just . . . until we got up here and this happened,” she says as she gestures at Steve Pierson, “I thought Pandora was behind all this.”

“Why would you think that?”

“Because I found this in my closet.” She pulls the distinctive floral print hair accessory from her pocket and shows it to him. He listens thoughtfully as she tells him about the secret passageway in her closet.

Two-faced Steve might have been guilty of one crime, but that doesn’t mean Pandora Feeney isn’t guilty of another.

“And now you’re telling me that she’s alone with my son, Luther. Just tell me whether she’s dangerous.”

He shakes his head vehemently. “Not the way you’re thinking, no.”

“What do you mean?”

“Look, I may not always buy into this Spiritualism stuff, but . . . after all these years on the job, I’m pretty good at reading people. Especially around here. Some of them are the real deal. They really do know things they shouldn’t know, and they see things no one else can see.”

Yes. Leona did. And Bonnie, too.

“So you’re saying that Pandora knows things . . .”

And she sees things.

Sam. She’s seen Sam.

“That’s what I’m saying, Bella. And that knowing, and seeing, can be dangerous.”

He’s right about that. But sometimes, it can save your life.

“Pandora had a premonition about Leona’s death months ago,” Luther tells her. “She tried to warn her, but like Odelia, Leona had no use for her. And likewise, I’m sure. Sometimes, living in such close quarters and isolated for so many months of the year, things can get a little bit dicey among the full-time residents around here. You know—typical small-town life.”

Yes. In a town that’s anything but typical.

“Anyway, when it happened, Pandora immediately suspected it wasn’t an accident. She knew better than to go to the police.”

“Because they wouldn’t take her seriously, or because they’d suspect her?”

“Both. She took it upon herself to investigate.”

“She’s been coming and going, then?”

“Yes. She told me about the secret stairway. There are a few of them, actually. She uncovered them when she was doing renovations years ago. They were built into the house during Prohibition.”

Ah—so Pandora’s bootleggers were authentic after all. And Pandora herself . . .

“Why?” Bella asks. “Why was she sneaking around the house?”

“She knew no one would believe her without evidence. She was trying to figure out motive and pinpoint a suspect.”

“You mean, her spirit guides didn’t give her that information?”

Luther matches Bella’s wry tone. “Sometimes, everyone has to rely on good old-fashioned investigation tactics. Even mediums.”

“Why did she call you over today, then? Had she figured out the truth about Steve?”

“No. She’d had a premonition about you. She thought you were in danger.”

“She was right.” She digests that for a long moment.

Hearing sirens and knowing they’re headed this way, she asks, “Can I go now? Or do you need me here?”

“The police will want to talk to you.”

“Is it going to take long?”

“Absolutely.”

“Then can I go home quickly first? I really need to hug my son.”

Luther hesitates, and his eyes are a little bright as he says, “Sure. It’s not as if we don’t know where to find you. Go hug your son.”

He’s thinking of his own mother, she knows. A mother who’s slipping away from her son moment by moment.