The Scariest Tail (A Wonder Cats Mystery Book 4) by Harper Lin Read Free Book Online

thought I would start at Darla’s.
    Crossing over to Prestwick from the normal part of town was like slipping into another dimension. There was a beautiful sign as I entered the area that was a little over four feet high, five feet thick, and seven feet wide. It was made of solid oak and had the word Prestwick carved into it in elegant, rolling script. The reason I knew it was solid oak was because if I ever encountered anyone who lived in Prestwick, they told me the story about the sign.
    Some old geezer by the name of Ignace Gigot had decided he wanted the area for himself and his thoroughbred horses, so he named the place after his most prized filly, Prestwick. On his property were some huge oak trees, and during a particularly bad storm, one of the older trees was uprooted and fell. Sure, it would keep him in firewood throughout the next three winters, but he had a vision .
    He chopped the wood with his own two hands. He dragged the wood to the workshop he had in his barn. He sanded, smoothed, and lovingly carved the name of his favorite horse into the giant block of tree trunk. Then, with his own bare hands, he loaded the behemoth onto his cart, which was being pulled by Prestwick herself, and carried it to the edge of the property, where it still remained.
    Of course, they never mentioned that Prestwick died under the strain of pulling such a heavy load all by herself. No, I’m just kidding. I like to add that just to mess with some of the neighborhood Prestwickans when I hear them telling that story.
    Mr. Gigot did all of the work with his own bare hands. After more and more people began to settle in and around Prestwick, the land belonging to Mr. Gigot was sold off in pieces. But residents kept the name and the history that came with it.
    I pulled into Prestwick and couldn’t help but notice the immediate rainbow of fall colors that arched over the streets as I drove in. Someone somewhere in their city planning committee must have made sure certain types of trees were planted in order to make one neighborhood more beautiful than another.
    I came to Darla’s house. It was up on a hill, of course, so that at any time day or night, she could look out any window and look down on everyone else around her. It was a beautiful home. The fact that she still got to live in it after the crimes she’d committed was a thorn in my side.
    Anyway, I quickly averted my eyes as if I were in fear of turning to stone. I headed down another street in the hopes it might bring me to my destination, the Roy residence.
    The roads snaked all around, and I was pretty sure I would have a hard time finding my way back to the main road. I hadn’t thought to leave a mystic trail so I could find my way back. Luckily, I wasn’t in any kind of danger. I was just gathering intelligence. I wasn’t planning on doing battle on my own with any beasties from another dimension. Plus, even using a little of my magic would have drained my body just enough to have kept me yawning throughout the day. Staying sharp and conserving resources were more important, and who knew what Bea might need after she had stayed up the whole night tending to Jake.
    But as the road began winding further and further into the neighborhood, I was startled to realize how big that part of town was. The deeper I drove, the houses became bigger and more beautiful. They made Darla’s house look like a Lincoln Log set. I had to admit that gave me some level of satisfaction.
    I turned onto Butternut Drive and thought I saw a street that would cut through the middle of the current subdivision I was in. As I turned onto it, I realized it wasn’t a street but a driveway. The asphalt turned into beautiful, old cobblestone that looked amazing but was in bad need of repair. The shocks on my car were gone, and I felt every bump as I rolled over them.
    I came to a rusted gate that blocked the drive and was joined on either side by a wrought iron fence. There were several no trespassing