The Mystery Of The Valley: The Happy Cat's Home Novella, #2

By Alex Mahon

Cristina is hired to serve a summons and is immediately embroiled in a mystery that could turn the legend of a local shrine on its head. Further investigation reveals there is something not quite right about it and she takes matters into her own hands.

 

But there are villagers with sinister motives who plan to profit from the mystery. They set about thwarting Cristina at every turn, and even employing others to help them.

 

While all this going on, Cristina has to make a decision about her love life. Should she continue her long-distance relationship with her Canadian boyfriend? Or should she let him go and start again with the new man she has just met?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Alex Mahon
• Release date: Jun 6, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201019433

Alex Mahon

I was born in Glasgow, Scotland in 1964, but moved to Renfrew when I was seven. After wandering around various countries, working in numerous jobs, I met a woman In Lleida, Spain, who was crazy enough to put with my nonsense and married her. I now work as an English teacher as punishment for my past sins.

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Copyright (c) 2022 All Rights Reserved. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. The scanning, uploading and, distribution of this book via the internet or any other means without the permission of the publisher are illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author's rights is appreciated.

Dedication

Idedicate this book to all the wonderful and quirky people I have met whilst travelling around the globe. Without you, life would have been dull.

Contents

Copyright

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Prologue

The Pyrenees,

704 AD

IN A CAVE OVERLOOKING the Manyanet Valley, by the light of a deer hoof filled with burning tallow, Gil squinted in disgust at what he had written.

In principio creavit Deus caelum et terram.

The blotched words on the sheepskin vellum were barely legible. He blamed the poor quality of the charcoal and gum he had ground into the mortar. He would need better writing implements than these to write the words of God.

He scratched his forehead with one end of his featherless goose quill. He had neither money nor goods with which to barter. And with no holy buildings nearby, he could not ask a local monk for stationery.

He rolled up the vellum, tapping it against the angled rock he used as a scribe table. Where could he find the proper materials in such a desolate place? Perhaps he needed spiritual guidance.

He placed the vellum on the table, and picked up the candle from the upturned log beside him. Stooped, he shuffled towards the niche at the back of the cave and shed light on the wooden statue of a crowned woman on a throne. On her lap sat a baby boy with his forefinger and middle finger raised as if blessing a penitent. Golden stars adorned their blue tunics, red robes, and the mother's yellow dress. Few men had laid eyes upon them; even fewer knew what secret dwelled within. How long could a defenceless hermit continue protecting the Mother and Child? The statue should be hidden in a place where guardians could watch over them night and day.

He placed the candle on the ground, knelt and tried to pray to them for guidance. But all he could think about was the perilous journey he had undertaken to reach there. He could not continue like this. Perhaps it would be best to hide the statue. Then reveal its whereabouts to someone he could trust to take it to its final destination. He clutched at that idea as a desperate man would at straws. Where would he find this person? He shook his head. It was not important right now. First, he had to complete the first book of Genesis.

A cacophony of frantic cries disturbed his thoughts. He hurried to the mouth of the cave and saw the villagers scattered all over the valley.  They were fleeing a horde of hooded figures moving swiftly down the opposite mountain. The remoteness provided ample opportunity for armies, marauding tribes, and bandits to loot, pillage, and rape without repercussions.

He fetched the statue and swung his gaze. Where could he hide it? Of course. Near the entrance, almost in plain sight. But he needed a digging tool.

He placed the statue on the dining table, which was laden with bowls, a ladle, a makeshift cross, and the bell he used to summon the shepherds to meals. He plucked out the ladle from the pot, using the spoon end to scoop out earth at the spot he had chosen. He worked as fast as the heartbeats pounding in his ears.

When the hole was deep enough, he kissed the Mother and Child's forehead in turn. They must not find you two, he muttered. Or my life has been in vain. He placed the statue inside the hole and covered it with the earth he had dug out. He tamped down the top layer with his feet until it was packed tight, then he blessed himself.

Rest in peace.

He blew out the candle and stole away.

Chapter 1

It took thirty-five seconds to unlock the handcuffs. The record so far but I wanted to beat it. The hair grip I'd been using had become too pliable from bending it so much. I stuck it back in my ponytail and plucked out another one. I removed the tips, straightened them, and inserted them into the keyhole. I bent it this way to make a key shape, then waggled it around. The jaws sprang open. I checked the second hand on my watch. Thirty-seven seconds. The second best time. Still, not bad for an amateur.

I often watched video tutorials in my office at the Happy cat's Home during the quiet moments between phonecalls or waiting on clients. In the past two months, I'd learned how to fire and clean a gun. Though I didn't possess such a weapon, the knowledge gained might come in pretty handy should the moment arise. Another time I'd mastered the art of following suspects. A boring task I'd gladly avoid at all costs. 

A faint scratching sound from behind the door distracted me. I thought it might be Mum as she liked to play silly games. To her, I remained the same child she had nurtured into adulthood. An only child smothered and spoiled.

Mum, is that you? I said through an exasperated sigh.

The scratching sound stopped for a few moments, then started again. It seemed to come from the bottom of the door. No way could Mum reach that low without cracking her joints.

Mum. Stop it.

No reply came.

I had another go at the handcuffs. It took a second more than last time. Two more tries lasted even longer. The record had been set and I'd never beat it.

I flicked my gaze at the door when the phantom door scratcher made an appearance. It had a tiny head covered in ginger fur and sad blue eyes. Water dripped from its shivering body onto the floor, quickly forming a puddle. It cocked its head as inquisitive animals do.

I moved the handcuffs to one side and smiled. Hey, cutey. Where did you come from, eh?

The kitten advanced a few yards, then stopped. It jerked its head back in a haughty fashion. A stubby nose twitched the air for danger. Confident there was none, it scurried to the box next to my desk where I stored an assortment of magazines. It tried to clamber up the side but the blunt claws of its back paws failed to grip the cardboard. It paced for a few moments, casting glances at the box now and again. Then it stood erect with its front paws on top of the box. It hefted its sodden torso over the side using the same piston action of its back paws as before. It landed with a dull thud. It paced, emitting a series