Chapter 5
After a night of scouring the internet—that involved an entire bottle of wine and two joints of excellent quality—I woke the next day drooling on the couch being judged by a cat.
“Your habits are appalling,” Cedric stated with clear disdain.
“Says the guy who licks his butt instead of showering,” I grumbled, sitting up and blowing strands of hair out of my face.
“I cannot help my feline nature. You, however, choose to overindulge.”
“And? Nothing wrong with having a bit of fun.” It might have emerged a tad defensively.
“There is when you ignore our task.”
“Your task,” I emphasized, “and who says I shirked? I did the research you demanded.”
“Really?” Cedric sounded surprised. Jerk. “And?”
“Came across a bunch of folklore involving butterflies, most of it centering around rebirth, the ability to transform, with many believing they are somehow linked to our souls.”
“Go on.”
“That’s it. The general gist seemed to be about changing shape. I mean I can kind of see it. Caterpillar to butterfly, which bodes well for you going from kitty cat to tree man.”
“Meaning there might be something out there, a spell or a talisman, perhaps a ritual.” Cedric sounded pensive. “What else did you discover?”
“Well, the necklace itself doesn’t show up anywhere. I posted it in a few forums and ran it through every reverse image program I know of, even had it analyzed by a few AI’s and nada. It didn’t match up with anything.”
“Not surprising if it was a custom design that Papillon kept hidden.” Cedric paced, tail flicking. “Speaking of whom…”
“I found very little about her. She led a reclusive life. No social media presence at all. The only mentions were recent and had to do with the auction.”
“Did you contact her relations to see if we could return for a visit?”
“Not yet.” I yawned. “Didn’t want to be bugging them late at night.
Let me get a coffee into me and I’ll give the guy running the show a ding.
” A coffee, double-toasted everything bagel smeared in cream cheese, and a shower later, I found the auctioneer’s number.
Turned out he did estate sales for a living.
Jeremiah Cotton answered after the second ring.
“Valley Auction, Jeremiah Cotton speaking, how can I help you?”
“Hello, Mr. Cotton. It’s Florence Girard. I was at your estate sale yesterday.”
“No returns, no refunds,” he hastily stated.
“That’s not why I’m calling. I was actually hoping for some information on the necklace I bought. The ugly butterfly pendant on the chain.”
“What about it?”
“I don’t suppose you know where it came from?”
The man snorted. “Nope. I’ll be honest, I’m surprised anyone even bought it.”
“If you thought it was junk, why even offer it for sale?”
“It was my daughter, Glady’s idea. See, my aunt, the late Ms. Papillon, was very protective of it. Glady’s once opened the box when I went to check on my aunt, and she, for lack of a better term, lost it. Claimed my daughter was to never ever touch the necklace, that it was dangerous.”
“Dangerous how?”
“Who knows. My aunt had some strange ideas, as you can imagine.”
I chuckled. “Yeah, I mean what was up with all those butterflies.”
“My aunt never did explain. Said she liked them and they made her feel safe. Personally, I found them creepy.”
“How long had she been collecting them?”
“Decades. She started when she returned from abroad. My mother, her sister, told me she’d planned to go backpacking through Europe for a year, only she disappeared six months into her trip.
Mom contacted the authorities to look for her, but her case was chalked up to misadventure.
About three or so years later, she came back. ”
“What happened to her?”
“My aunt never said, but mom claimed she’d changed. Even odder, she came back with enough money to buy the house you saw and never work a day in her life.”
“Must have been quite the fortune, given her expensive collection of butterflies.”
“I think she hooked up with some rich guy in Europe, and when they split, he paid her off.”
A plausible explanation but for the fact Papillon had a magical necklace, her house shielded against magic, and had turned into a butterfly-crazed recluse.
“I don’t suppose I could walk through the house again.”
“I’m afraid the contents were mostly sold,” he apologized.
Thinking quick, I blurted out, “Actually, I’m interested in the house itself. I imagine it will be going on the market soon.”
“It is, and even better, I haven’t signed with a realtor yet, meaning we could probably negotiate on the price since there wouldn’t be a fee for them.”
As if I could afford it but I pretended like a pro. “That would be amazing. What time is good for you?”
“I have a few things to take care of. Say after lunch, around two?”
“Perfect, see you then.”
Only I didn’t see Jeremiah, or the house. He called me just as I was readying to leave.
“Ms. Girard, glad I caught you. Unfortunately, there’s no point in you coming by my aunt’s place.”
“I take it you got another buyer.”
“No, and I’ll be getting a lot less for place since it burned to the ground.”
My jaw dropped as Jeremiah explained that, by the time firefighters reached the place, it was completely ablaze. The cause? Unknown, but given its age, electrical was the most likely culprit.
However, my brain—which watched way too many conspiracy shows—immediately wondered if it were arson. Someone maybe looking to destroy evidence. The wrong hands pissed they didn’t get the artifact. Papillon’s ghost.
When I broke the news to Cedric, to my surprise, he shared my suspicion. “Seems a little too coincidental.”
“Agreed, but at the same time, Papillon had been hiding there for years. Seems even more of a jump to think whoever she might have been hiding from suddenly knew where to find her.” Even as I said it, I remembered what the girl told me.
“Apparently, she never left her property until the day she fell off ladder and got taken to the hospital. The girl said she freaked. She believed the butterflies and her property kept her hidden.”
Cedric didn’t have to say aha; he simply wore a smug feline look.
“You do realize all of this is assumption.”
“It’s called processing the information we have.”
“Which is minimal and, with the house gone, all we have.”
“Except for the necklace.”
I grimaced. “Way to remind me.”
“Shall we study it?”
“Not yet. I’ve got to do some groceries because the cupboard is bare.
” I also needed to hit the liquor store for more wine because I’d run out.
The horror, I know. I also hit the weed store—a legal Canadian perk—and grabbed a box of joints and a bag of edible gummies.
Don’t judge. My last stop? The grocery store, where I filled my cart with veggies and meat and other stuff, including snacks—to go with the gummies.
In honor of Charlie, I grabbed her favorite flavor of chips.
Maybe I’d give her a ring with the mirror later and munch on them while we chatted—she’d totally be jealous I had her favorite salty treat and hopefully decide she needed to pop over for a visit.
Once I got home, late afternoon, I put off Cedric and his request to play with the necklace.
I had no intention of tackling it on an empty belly.
I tossed together a savory chicken paprika, which I served over some freshly made egg noodles.
Time consuming but worth every delicious—and delaying—bite.
By the time I’d cleaned up—scouring every counter, washing every dish by hand—Cedric practically vibrated with agitation.
When I hung up my dishrag, he finally growled, “Are you done stalling?”
“Well, the bathroom could technically use a scrub.”
“It’s like you want me to eviscerate you,” he snapped.
“Calm down. I don’t know why you’re in such a hurry to play with that damned thing.”
“And I don’t understand your extreme reluctance.”
Neither did I.
I grabbed the box with the necklace and slammed it onto the counter with slightly too much force. The box collapsed. I stared at it in horror, whereas Cedric snickered.
“Better hope you can glue it,” he taunted.
“Fuck you,” I snapped.
“You going to grab the necklace or show off your vast and eloquent vocabulary a bit more?”
I nudged the broken lid aside and, once more, would have sworn a ghostly butterfly rose from the pendant.
Since I couldn’t bring myself to touch it directly, I grabbed some tongs from a kitchen jar and, grimacing the entire time, plucked the necklace from the debris of the box and hung it on the banana hook on the kitchen counter.
It swung slightly, seeming innocuous, if ugly, and yet no denying my aversion.
Inexplicable, and yet I couldn’t shake my conviction there was something severely wrong with the gaudy piece of jewelry.
Cedric had no such qualms and put his nose right up against it. “Interesting. There is a cloaking spell minimizing the magic within the quartz.”
“Why do that?”
“To render it less visible. To disguise the fact it contains something of importance.”
“Maybe it’s hiding the fact this is really a gorgeous and expensive piece of jewelry?” I asked somewhat hopefully.
“Doubtful. The seers wouldn’t waste their time directing us to valuable jewelry with no purpose.”
“Could be they wanted to make us rich. You know, maybe the fates, or whatever rules the universe, felt bad at taking my best friend and thought it might make a nice consolation prize. Just think, if I were rich, I wouldn’t have to go to work to pay the bills and could spend more time helping you find a cure.
” What I wouldn’t give to quit, because I enjoyed my job as a receptionist for a car dealership so much.
NOT! Ever dealt with an angry driver who was peeved their ten-year-old car with a quarter-million kilometers that had the check-engine-soon light on for the last six months died and couldn’t have its engine revived?
“The seers would not be concerned about your lack of wealth.” Cedric paced around the necklace.
“Says you.”
“Yes, says me.”