A Drink of Death (Japanese Tea Garden Mysteries Book 2) Read online

  “I need a pair of scissors.”

  “Scissors!” Moonshine repeated.

  “That’s what I said, bird.”

  I found some scissors on the dining room table. The cops had come by while I was out and had taken the bloodied scissors from Mamma Jackie’s room away for evidence. Not that I would have used those to open my dinner.

  “Scissors!” Moonshine insisted.

  “I know, I know. I’ve got them.” I waved my shears to the bird and went back to my ramen noodles.

  In three minutes, I was enjoying a steaming bowl of noodles. It wasn’t that they really tasted great but since I was starving they were like a gourmet meal. As I sat at the dining room table, I looked around the house. I knew there was still a lot of work to do in the basement, but the sun was sinking outside. I didn’t want to go down into the basement at nighttime. It was too spooky.

  Still, glancing around the front room, dining room, and unfinished kitchen, I realized the rest of the place could also use a little tidying. Some people ate when they were nervous. When something was upsetting or causing me to lose sleep, I cleaned.

  I set aside my dishes and got to work. I cleaned the tops of doorframes all the way down to the heating vents. I swept underneath furniture and polished the doorknobs and cabinet fixtures. All the while, I tried to focus on anything other than Mamma Jackie and the time that was slipping by.

  Michael hadn’t called with any news that his men had successfully tailed someone from the mall. Drake didn’t call to say he had spoken with Don Nicolaidis in prison. With no news, it was like I was floating over a big, black pit and couldn’t reach the sides. There was absolutely nothing to grab onto.

  While standing in the middle of the room, I looked up.

  “That ceiling fan is covered in dust,” I said to Moonshine.

  Grabbing the broom, I tried to sweep the dust from the blades. Not thinking ahead or planning on gravity playing its part, I managed to pull a clump of disgusting gray dust-bunnies down and right into my eyes. I dropped the broom and teetered backwards. My hand hit the wall but my feet tripped over the bag of knick-knacks that I had been saving up lately to drop off at a donation site. Everything tumbled out of the bag, including the creepy cat figurine the construction workers had found in the wall. It rolled over twice, chipping an ear in the process. I picked it up and inspected it sadly.

  “Nothing a little crazy glue won’t fix,” I muttered, setting the figure on the newly cleaned dining room table. I pulled the glue from the drawer of a bamboo style hallway table just outside Mamma Jackie’s room. I had been using the table as a desk for paying bills, so there were stamps, envelopes, crazy glue and other office things inside the drawer.

  “This isn’t porcelain,” I noticed as I studied the figurine, before I applied the glue. “I wonder what this thing really is.”

  The statue looked old.

  Prompted by a sudden curiosity, I grabbed my laptop, flipped it open and did a quick web search. In minutes, I was reading about rare good luck talismans like the one I had in my possession.

  “Grandma must have brought this with her when she came from Japan. This certainly isn’t something she picked up at a junk store or thrift shop,” I realized.

  Looking at the cat statue more closely, I noted every curve, etching, and bit of color. I typed it all into the search engine.

  The only similar Maneki-Neko, or Fortune Cats, I could find that matched the description of mine were currently on display in The Art Institute of Chicago, The Worcester Art Museum in England and The National Museum of Modern Art in Tokyo.

  “You’re a lot older than you look. And you’re solid ivory,” I said to the kitty, as it stared up at me, one paw extended in a frozen wave. “But you still creep me out a little. Back in the bag with you. I’ll find you a good home as soon as things quiet down around here.”

  After putting the cat away, I glanced at the clock. I was shocked to see it was almost ten o’clock.

  Most of the downstairs looked spotless now, the construction mess of my kitchen seeming like a separate dimension from the rest of the house. It was where the negativity, the indecisiveness and the worry went. The rest of the house was organized and calm. But until the kitchen was complete, until Mamma Jackie was home safe, there would be a room of chaos here at home.

  I couldn’t help but think that chaos was inside me too, in my head and heart. My body told me it was tired, as I covered Moonshine’s cage and headed upstairs. Of course, I double-checked that every lock was in place and that no door or window was going to budge without the help of a sledgehammer.

  I took a hot shower and put on a fresh pair of pajamas. I crawled into bed and was sure that I was going to lie awake for hours. My mind kept running around in circles, reliving my failure at the mall, and contemplating whatever Drake was doing back in Winchester. I tried to rehearse everything I’d say to him when he returned, but none of it was going to suffice. I may have gotten his mother killed today.

  “Don’t think that way, Maddie. Just don’t.”

  But before I could start tossing and turning, sleep came for me. It was a nice dream. For a while. The tea garden was in full bloom. I had lots of visitors and they were smiling and chatting and sipping tea. Michael was there and he held my hand. This time I was able to enjoy it. I let him lead me around the grounds and I felt happy inside.

  And Mamma Jackie was there. She scolded me for thinking she had gone somewhere. What was wrong with me? She was right here, she insisted.

  Then the dream shifted. Suddenly I wasn’t in my tea garden any more but a long, twisted hedge maze of a type I had only seen in real life once before. I didn’t know why I should be in this place that was only vaguely familiar. Before I could wonder about it any further, Drake showed up in the maze. He was with someone else. He pointed me out and the two began laughing. They were laughing at me because I didn’t have any scissors.

  Scissors?

  Scissors!

  My eyes popped open.

  “Scissors!” I exclaimed into the darkness. And then, as more of my dream came back to me, I added, “The maze!”

  It was like all the puzzle pieces that had been sliding around in my head all day, all of the hints that my subconscious had been trying to push at me through my dreams, suddenly fell into place.

  I leaped out of bed and quickly got dressed. I put on the same sweats I had been wearing earlier in the day, slipped my dark blue hoodie over my T-shirt, and grabbed a canvas bag with the words Newberry Library silkscreened across it. It was a simple little bag of my grandmother’s that I had found hanging in her closet shortly after moving into the house. There was something about it that I had liked. Right now, it was just the right size for what I needed.

  I nearly tripped down the stairs, because I was still shaking the sleep out of my head.

  “Shake it off, Maddie. Focus. What will you need, where you’re going? Flashlight, wallet, water bottle, car keys. A blanket, just in case. And one more thing…”

  As I rushed around the house, gathering what I needed, I felt a sense of relief. For the first time since Mamma Jackie disappeared, I felt like I might be moving in the right direction.

  I dashed out of the house and got into my car. Only then did I hesitate.

  “This could be a mistake,” I said to the steering wheel. “I could be putting myself in unnecessary danger. If anything happens to me, no one will know where I am. And who knows what will happen to Mamma Jackie?”

  But I couldn’t forget what had happened the last time I had called in others. Everything had gone wrong at the ransom drop and Mamma Jackie had paid the price. This time, I couldn’t risk calling Michael, or even Drake, for help.

  Without letting myself think about it any longer, I started the engine and backed out of the driveway. It would take half an hour to reach my destination. It was a weird feeling, knowing I had to hurry up to get to a place that part of me didn’t really want to arrive at. But, again, I pushed the secon
d thoughts away and hit the gas.

  14

  Redstone Manor was not just any old mansion. It was a creepy place located on the very edge of Little River, where folk couldn’t help but drive by it on the way in and out of town. On those rare nights when a storm rolled over the town, it was inevitable that someone would swear to have been driving past the house and seen, in a flash of lightning, a ghoulish face peering through the planks of wood barring the windows. Or an insidious shadow would supposedly creep along the side of the house, writhing and twisting until it made its way to the hedge maze in the garden, where it would disappear among the branches and leaves.

  I had heard that on Halloween, there was always a police car parked in the shadows to chase away any teenagers acting on a dare or trespassers hoping to see some kind of paranormal activity.

  But so far, all that had come out of Redstone were tall tales. I hadn’t lived in town for long before the haunted house stories had reached my ears. I didn’t believe the place was haunted, of course, no matter how mysterious the towering structure and its surrounding hedge maze always looked whenever I drove past.

  But the fact that I didn’t believe in ghosts did nothing to relieve me tonight of the dreadful feeling that was creeping up on me with each tick of the odometer, as I drove toward the edge of town.

  Aside from the sea of intimidating hedges that guarded the property, the house had been empty for years. The whole estate was nominally maintained by descendents of the original Tilldale family, who owned all of it but didn’t live anywhere near Little River these days.

  As soon as I rounded the curve at the Redstone Windmill Restaurant, I would find the lonely stretch of road that led to Redstone Manor. There wouldn’t be a soul around at this time of night. Still, I didn’t want to just pull up in the driveway and walk in the front door. I would have to slip into stealth mode.

  So, I parked my car in the restaurant parking lot, grabbed my bag of supplies and headed off toward the house on foot.

  Aside from my footsteps, it was quiet outside. The moon hid behind a patch of ever thickening clouds. In the distance, coyotes could be heard howling. But I was more concerned with what might be slithering along the ground nearby. There were rattlesnakes in these parts. If I had really taken a moment and thought about it, I’d probably have scared myself into a frozen state, terrified to take a step for fear of landing on a rattler or, worse yet, a nest of rattlers.

  “Calm down, Maddie,” I whispered to myself. “You’d think rattlers were the worst thing out here. Don’t forget about the scorpions.”

  I shivered and quickened my pace toward the house.

  As if on cue, the moon flashed from behind the clouds long enough for me to see I was nearly at the hedge maze in the garden. It was the same maze I had noticed many times before, when driving past the mansion, but I had never really paid attention to it on those occasions. It was the same maze I had seen in my dream tonight.

  I stood at the entrance, out of breath. I inhaled deeply, trying to calm my nerves. The air was cold but invigorating. Or maybe it was the massive doses of adrenaline pumping through my veins that made me feel like running.

  Either way, I took my first step inside the maze and didn’t look back. Part of me thought I didn’t want to glance backward because I could get disoriented or confused. But another part of me knew I didn’t want to turn around and see some kind of apparition reaching out to drag me off, never to be seen again.

  I shook aside the mental image and hurried on.

  As I walked, I listened for anything that sounded like another person. The wind began to pick up. It rustled the dry bushes, as I pulled myself through their leaves like a comb through snarled hair. I pulled my hoodie up over my head. When I reached out to touch the hedges, I felt thorns on some and smooth vines on others. In the daytime, I’d be able to see exactly what kinds of foliage these were. But right now it seemed like a dangerous game, with the stickers waiting to grab hold of me.

  I peeked carefully around corners to make sure I didn’t accidentally give my position away to anyone who might be on the lookout. After what felt like hours inside the maze, I finally peered around one corner to see that at the end of the leafy aisle was the back entrance to the house.

  I snapped off my flashlight and picked up my pace. On reaching the exit of the maze, I froze and listened.

  An owl hooted from one of the nearby trees. I had always heard people say that if you heard an owl hoot, it meant someone was going to die.

  I shoved aside the thought and scurried to the back door. My mouth had gone completely dry. I was sure I could hear the mice in the walls of the place, the termites in the wood, the settling of the house, like a deep sigh.

  I gripped the doorknob with my sweaty right hand, the flashlight in my left, and gave it a turn. Nothing. It was locked. No big surprise there but I’d had to try it anyway.

  I walked over to the cellar door entrance but that was also padlocked shut. The first floor windows were boarded with planks of plywood. I briefly entertained the idea of climbing up to the second floor and shimmying in through one of those windows. But that didn’t make sense. The kidnapper would have to be getting in and out somehow, without scaling the side of the building.

  I stood in the shadows to think.

  Of course the kidnapper would have to be getting in, but they couldn’t leave a window just hanging open. I began to walk quietly from window to window, checking for loose boards. There were twelve windows at the ground level and I tried many of them before I found what I was looking for. The boards of one opening were, not only loose, but they were unnailed and simply propped against the frame. I pushed them aside and found the glass behind was missing, probably broken out long ago.

  After I had stuffed the flashlight back in my bag, I dropped the bag softly through the open window. Then, using both hands, I hoisted myself up and dragged myself halfway over the window sill. My stomach howled as the sill felt like it punched me in the gut. I kicked my legs. When I reached my hands down to the floor, the right one landed in a deep pile of something that was crunchy and unfamiliar. The left hand pressed through a layer of dust but was at least flat on the floor.

  I had a frantic desire to brush off my right hand. I teetered with my legs still outside, until the thought of someone grabbing me from behind made me hurry to drag myself the rest of the way in. I stood up and wiped my hands on the front of my sweat pants. Then I fumbled for my flashlight. Once I had it in my hand and snapped it on, I shined it toward the floor.

  I was prepared to find that the thing I had stuck my hand in was the dried carcass of a rat or some other dead animal. To my relief, it was nothing more than a pile of crumbled plaster that had seemingly fallen from the ceiling.

  “Whew,” I muttered.

  The beam of my flashlight cut through the darkness. I shined it throughout the room I was in. From what I could tell, I was in what was at one time a library. There were shelves built into the walls. There was a carpet on the floor, but it had faded long ago. The mice and bugs would continue their ongoing destruction of the carpet, unaware they were eating what had probably been a very expensive rug at one time.

  I tried to be quiet but it felt like there were noises all around me. Each step made a board creak and echo throughout the halls and rooms. My heart was pounding so loudly I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to hear over it, to be alert to the sounds of a possible enemy’s approach. My mouth had gone completely dry. Even though I was out of the cold night air, I felt chills running through me.

  I swallowed hard and walked toward the open door.

  Just as I swung my flashlight ahead of me, I gasped. The beam of light trembled in my right hand as my left flew to cover my mouth. I didn’t scream.

  Staring at me was a full suite of armor. This poor knight watched over the collapse and disintegration of the mansion. He stood at what was the entrance to the saloon. Not like the saloons of the old west. But a great room where guests of the original
owners would be able to mingle and dance and enjoy cocktails and socializing.

  I stepped into the room. The walls still held a few swords, spears and knives that must have been collected by the former owners. I wanted to stay and look, but I’d already wasted enough time.

  “Now, if I were going to hide someone in an old abandoned house, where would I hide them?”

  I tried to push the thought from my head. I didn’t want to say it. It was what everyone screamed in movie theaters.

  “Don’t go in the basement!”

  But that was where I had to start. That was the most logical place. If I came up empty handed, then searching the rest of the house would be easy. Right?

  “Right,” I grumbled.

  If I remembered right, the cellar was at the other end of the house. That would lead to the basement so somewhere over there was bound to be the door.

  It was like I had lead in my shoes. I didn’t want to go in the basement. I didn’t even like my own basement. Even though it was filled with pretty things from a grandmother I never knew who was happy and kind and creative, it was unsettling.

  “Mamma Jackie. Just remember you’re doing this for her. She’s probably scared and hungry and here you are freaking out over a couple spider webs. Oh, gosh, there are probably black widows in this place.” I shivered.

  Swallowing hard, I gave myself a pinch.

  “Pull yourself together. Now go find that basement.”

  I tried to talk tough. I tried to walk tough. But the flashlight beam gave me away since it shook hesitantly, as if it were scared of the dark too.

  In what had been the kitchen, I found a simple door that blended in with what had once been flawless white paint. Now, the paint was more grayish with dust and cobwebs. Large chunks of paint and plaster had fallen to the ground. The door was closed and had a grimy knob.

  I didn’t give my mind a chance to scare me. I walked to the door, grabbed the knob, gave it a strong twist and yanked it open. I was greeted with the smell of dirt and mold. The flashlight revealed a winding set of steps that looked very rotten and earthy and unstable.