Chapter 13

I break my “no creepy mysterious stuff for one afternoon” resolution almost immediately.

Within seconds of me arriving at the Night Owl, I hear Mrs. Leyton calling my name across the room. I can see my friends waiting for me at our usual spot – Jamie’s newly-dyed bubblegum pink hair has its uses – but they haven’t spotted me yet.

I’ve already kept them waiting thirty minutes. A few extra won’t make much difference.

So I put on my best fake smile and walk towards Mrs. Leyton’s window-side table. The wealthy elderly widow has been a regular customer as far back as I can remember – every single afternoon since her husband died, she sits at the same table with a slice of cake and a cup of tea, and writes.

She’s known locally as a “colorful character”, which is really saying something in Portland, home of The Vacuum Clea