The Girl with the Uninvited Ghost: Pandemonium Cozy Mystery #1

Chapter 5

"What's on the list? Neema asked. She and Mahogany stood in the book-stuffed study where Magic Mike and Guy had lost their lives. Dried blood pools graffitied the antique Persian rug. In the distance, the clock tower tolled twice. The waning gibbous moon slipped through the arched windows, illuminating the room in shimmering, silver light.

Mahogany pulled the crumpled list from her jeans pocket and read it aloud. "A six-inch Egyptian statue of a black cat containing the liver of the feline belonging to Amenhotep III, a tin-type of Lizzie Bordon, a 14-century anelace with a jeweled hilt, and a leather-bound book of the dead.

"Does your ghost have any idea where the items might be?" Neema asked, gazing around the study. Her line of sight stayed above the bloodstains.

"He's not my ghost," Mahogany said through gritted teeth.

"By the way, what's an anelace?" Guy asked. He stood in the middle of one of the red velvet sofas, his legs disappearing at the knees.

"It's a long dagger, almost a short sword from England in the middle ages," Mahogany said. She stepped over the bloodstain left by Magic Mike as he bled out and picked up a picture frame sitting on the brick mantelpiece. Behind it stood a small black statue of an Egyptian cat. "Got one." She handed the figure to Neema, who placed it in a waiting tote bag.

"Oh, the dagger. Yeah. We were using that to conduct the binding," Guy said. "I'm pretty sure it had been in Mike's family for generations."

"Binding?" Mahogany said, setting the photo back on the mantel and turning to look at Guy. Bazgul skittered along her arm and onto the mantel, where he climbed up the large gilded mirror.

"What binding?" Neema asked. She looped the tote bag's handles over her shoulder.

"Magic Mike was about to bind me to someone," Guy said. He walked through the sofa and straight through the wall, disappearing from view.

Mahogany gritted her teeth and followed Guy into the kitchen. "Binding you to who?" Mahogany said.

Guy now stood inside the kitchen sink. The upper part of his torso sprouted from the water-stained enamel. "That is a good question. Magic Mike didn't give me that information," Guy said. He turned toward the counter and walked through it, his head and shoulders disappearing into the cupboards while his lower half remained hidden by the dishwasher.

"Mike didn't tell you who he was binding you to?" Mahogany said, his face skeptical.

Neema joined Mahogany in the kitchen doorway. "Why would Magic Mike do that? Binding a person to another without full knowledge could be disastrous."

"Mike said the less I knew, the better." The cupboard door muffled his voice. "He did say the person had something to do with the woods or a forest or something treey. And cold weather. Snow or maybe sleet? I can't remember the details."

"Wizards are so annoying," Mahogany said. She turned to Neema. "Magic Mike didn't tell him who or why or what he planned to bind Guy to, only that the less he knew, the better."

"That makes about as much sense as a witch with a white cat," Neema said. "Mike was an odd creature. Was the binding completed?"

"Hard to say," Guy said. "The blow to the head wrecked my memory of the night."

Mahogany sighed. "He has no idea. Let's get this done." Mahogany gazed at Guy's torso and rolled her eyes. "I'll take the entry hall."

****

Mahogany and Neema stood at their kitchen table, admiring their haul. "That's everything except the anelace," Mahogany said.

Guy floated through the table and stood in the middle of the objects retrieved from the brownstone.

"Are you going to make a habit of this?" Mahogany asked, her brow knitting in a frown.

"I might," Guy said. "There's something quite liberating about shedding one's corporeal form."

"Gods, you're insufferable," Mahogany muttered.

"Plus, being inside an object lets me see recent events that happened to and around it," Guy said.

"Such a romantic. I bet you said that to all of your girlfriends." A small smile crept over Mahogany's lips.

"Ew, gross," Guy said, making a face. "I was a complete gentleman when it came to my romances."

"Where do you expect the anelace might be?" Neema asked. "Do you have any idea what it looks like?"

"No," Mahogany said, "but they're pretty hard to miss. It's practically swords, and this one has a jeweled hilt." As the words slipped from her lips, Guy and Mahogany locked eyes.

"The murder weapon," they said in unison.

"Mike was killed with a magical relic?" Neema said. "Crap, that means the police have it."

"Well, how in the fiery pits of Hades am I supposed to get that back?" Mahogany said. She pulled out a kitchen chair from the table and sat with a heavy sigh.

"Your womanly charms?" Guy gave a wry smile.

Mahogany pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to squelch a headache blooming behind her eyes. "Don't cops lock important objects like murder weapons in evidence lockers?" Mahogany said. "Inside police stations, where all the police hang out?"

Neema squeezed Mahogany's shoulder. "We'll figure something out. I've got a port-o-hole or two lying around that will work perfectly."

_____

A/N: Man, things are getting complicated for Mahogany. First, a ghost and now have to deal with getting into police evidence? Dang. I wouldn't want to be in her shoes.

This chapter is dedicated to the late and great sloanranger who left us too soon. Lucky for us, her stellar poetry is still delighting us. Her short story, Jeremiah was a Bullfrog, is a delightful fantasy tale of love and loss.