Red Rum: A Rosie Casket Mystery by R.M. Wild (top 100 novels of all time .TXT) 📕

“Sure.”

“But the events only start manifesting themselves after the witches plant the idea of taking over the throne. Ultimately, they were controlling Macbeth’s fate.”

“What in blazes are you talking about?”

“Hear me out, Matt. Double, double, toil and trouble, fire burn and cauldron bubble. The fire has burned twice now. Two murders. I’ve been toiling so hard, I can barely sleep, and now we’re both in trouble. Me with the law and you with your suspension.”

“So what’s the cauldron?”

“I don’t know,” I said.

“Six months ago, that would have seemed ludicrous.”

“I know,” I said quietly. The absurdity of the situation wasn’t lost on me. How had we gone from trying to find Chrissy to talking about witches and prophecies?

Mettle finally turned onto Beacon Street. As we neared the inn, a car sitting in my driveway emerged from behind the trees. With all that had happened, my heart fluttered at the thought of trying to take care of a guest tonight.

Thankfully, it was just the Apache. I never thought I’d be so relieved to see that bucket of rust. No wonder Eldritch’s curtains had been pulled.

“Do you want to come in for a few minutes?” I offered.

“I need to head back to my place,” Mettle said. “Regroup, you know?”

I was pretty sure that was code for drinking a six pack and watching an action movie.

“No problem,” I said, faintly disappointed.

Mettle pulled into the driveway and parked behind the Apache. “It’s not you; it’s me.”

I grabbed my bag and climbed out. I didn’t want him to think I was hurt. Which I wasn’t, honest. The feeling was already gone. “I’m pretty sure it’s me. You think I’m a witch.”

Mettle didn’t refute that, just let it hang on the air. He shifted into reverse and gave me a big, fake smile. “I’ll be in touch,” he said. Then he pulled out the driveway before I could even close the door. I watched as he drove down the road, the door flapping open. He pulled over, ran around the back bumper, slammed the door, and climbed back in and screeched off.

“He was in an awful hurry.”

I turned around. Stanley Eldritch was sitting on one of the rocking chairs on the porch.

“I think he got spooked,” I said.

“For a cop, he spooks awful easy.”

“What are you doing here? We don’t have any guests tonight.”

“I was worried about you,” Eldritch said.

I climbed the porch steps. “There’s been a lot of that going around. You don’t think I’m going to set you on fire, do you?”

Eldritch shook his head. “Any man who believes you’re anything but an angel is a moron.”

“Thank you,” I said and plopped into the rocking chair beside him. It felt good to hear. At least someone wasn’t crossing himself and moussing his hair with holy water in my presence. “Why are you so good to me, Mr. Eldritch? After everything I’ve put you through, I hardly deserve it.”

“One of these days, I’m gonna need someone to change my diapers.”

I laughed. “I’ll consider it an honor.”

We rocked back and forth, our chairs groaning in tune, and watched a delivery truck whip around the corner, the late afternoon sun making us squint as the glare slid over the metallic siding.

“I almost forgot. That rat-faced Herrick stopped by earlier,” Eldritch said.

“Great, what did he want?”

“He dropped this off,” Eldritch said. He fished in his pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper and handed it to me.

I opened it, half-expecting to see another line from Shakespeare. Instead, in a child-like scrawl it said: Need Money. Going back to bugging. This business relationship is soggy toast. Over and out.

I crumpled it up and tossed it on the porch and sighed. “I’ve got no partner. I’ve got no business. And I’ve got no more leads on Chrissy or Peter Hardgrave,” I said. I didn’t even have the energy to tell him that my last lead had just gone up in flames. Literally.

Eldritch stood, his joints creaking, and stretched. “Things will get better, Red. They always do. I have faith.”

“Not this time. We’re out of options.”

Eldritch patted me on the shoulder. “They said the same thing when the Hindenburg caught fire.”

“Yeah, and half the people died.”

“But not all of them. Something will come up. It always does.”

“Where are you going?”

“One of my headlights is out. I need to get back before dark so I don’t get pulled over.”

“Okay,” I said sullenly.

“I don’t like seeing you like this, Red. What can I do for you? How can I help?”

“Nothing, I guess. Not unless you’ve got a magic wand to bring my guests back.”

“You want me to go grab you some dinner?”

“I’m not hungry. Besides, you’re broke.”

“I was bein literal. I’ll row out back and grab a pot and grab us a lobster.”

“You’re too kind.”

Eldritch stepped off the porch and hobbled toward the pickup. “Something will surface. Everything’s gotta breathe. Even old secrets.”

“I hope you’re right.”

He climbed into the Apache and waved goodbye. I watched the old clunker pull onto the road and disappear around the trees. Suddenly, the porch was very quiet, the only sounds the creaking trees and the waves licking the rocks down by the dock.

I shivered, feeling very alone.

Against my better judgement, I took out my phone and pulled up the Facebook page for my business, hoping all the bad chatter had finally calmed down. Maybe if I changed the name of my inn, rebranded, and took out a new page, I could get a fresh start. The only other option was to sell the place and move out of Dark Haven, an increasingly appealing choice.

But I wasn’t one to let these trolls get the best of me. For a few short weeks, I had been busy, but hopeful, and had gotten a brief glimpse of how rewarding it would be to operate my own successful business. I couldn’t go back to a regular job again, not knowing that any day I might say the wrong thing or accuse the wrong person and end up