Cat and the Cryptid Spring Episode Six

Cat and the Cryptid Summer by Raspberry | Content Warnings

“You’re sure this was what she was covered in?” Betty asked, examining the clump of moss between her fingers.

That was (luckily) the only evidence Jules brought back to their room. Where exactly she had hidden the rest of the poor nymph was a question Betty hadn’t bothered to ask. She trusted Jules to be discreet, but sometimes Jules’ expert-level ability in forensic countermeasures could put even Betty on edge.

“Well, I certainly didn’t pack that in my suitcase,” Jules responded wryly, handing Betty a magnifying glass. “What do you think it is?”

Betty took the magnifying glass and tried to concentrate. To say that flora wasn’t her area of expertise would be a drastic understatement, but she was certain that it wasn’t something she came across often. The mosses in Texas were usually lighter in color and a coarser texture.

“Could it be Aulacomnium palustre?” Jules asked, in a tone that sounded as conversational as if she had asked if it were cloudy that day.

Betty’s eyebrows furrowed together, and Jules reached into her suitcase. She rummaged around before producing a thick textbook with a flourish.

“I can’t believe you packed a book of mosses for our vacation.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Jules said with a laugh. “This is just a book on plants found in the North American ecosystems.”

“Ah, light reading then?”

“Would you like to mock my hobbies, or would you like me to read you the section about Aulacomnium palustre?”

Betty leaned forward, giving Jules her attention. Jules flipped towards the end of the book, her eyes scanning the pages so quickly her pupils became a blur. She hummed and nodded triumphantly.

“Looks the same, doesn’t it?” she asked, turning the pages so Betty could see.

“Yes,” Betty said, furrowing her brow as she read the description. “But it doesn’t make any sense. See here? It says that bog moss–”

“Aulacomnium palustre.”

“Sure. It’s frequent in wetlands.”

“Subboreal and arctic wetlands,” Jules corrected.

“Yes,” Betty said with a sigh. 

Usually, Jules’ need for technicality was endearing. Right now, it was just a speed bump threatening to derail her train of thought.

“You’re thinking it’s odd that this would be on our mystery nymph when her natural habitat is nowhere near here,” Jules noted. 

“Maybe she was killed elsewhere and washed up with the tides?” Betty mused.

“She would’ve been dead much longer,” Jules pointed out. “My anatomical knowledge of nymphs isn’t expert-level, but I’d say based on her decomposition, she was killed no more than 24 hours ago.”

“Which means she was killed at the beach here last night,” Betty said, shaking her head. “So she travels from… somewhere far away. And ends up dead here.”

“Unfortunately the why and who would be more under your area of expertise than mine,” Jules said, laying a hand on her shoulder. 

A knock on the door had Betty reaching for her cane and springing to her feet.

“Hell-ooo,” a sing-song voice called, pounding on the door. 

“Who is it?” Betty called, giving Jules a questioning look.

Jules sniffed the air and shook her head. It was definitely a mortal, whoever it was on the other side.

“My name is Kacy Kade, with a K,” the voice replied. “From the blog and podcast series ‘Kacy Kade’s Cryptid Hunt.’”

Betty swung the door open, hunching forward to lean into her cane.

“Did you say Kacy?” she repeated. “I don’t know any Kacy. Are you one of my grandchildren?”

“No, dear, I think she’s the young lady down at reception,” Jules answered quickly. “Did you bring the fresh towels I asked for?”

“What? No.”

The girl (Betty assumed she was no older than twenty) sighed, not even trying to hide the roll of her eyes. She had a red “Sasquatch is Real” t-shirt, long brown hair in a braided ponytail, and ripped denim shorts. Her phone was in one hand, with a microphone attached to it by a cord in the other hand. Apparently she wasn’t the type to ask for consent before recording.

“My name is Kacy Kade, from the blog and podcast series–”

“What’s a blog?” Betty interrupted. 

“It’s like an online diary,” Jules said.

“No, it isn’t.” (It was almost too easy getting under this girl’s skin.) “I have an online writing platform, and I also record audio records of my investigations.”

“Like a detective?” Betty asked.

“Is this Nancy Drew or Sherlock Holmes?” Jules asked.

“I investigate the paranormal,” Kacy said, taking a dramatic pause. “I heard that a mysterious creature washed up on the beach this morning and then suddenly disappeared.” She glanced around, as if expecting someone was trying to eavesdrop. “I’m collecting reports on what happened, and I heard that you two were on the beach this morning.”

“We were?” Betty asked mildly.

“Two people I interviewed remembered standing next to an old, um, older woman and a woman dressed like… well, dressed more… classically,” Kacy stumbled through her sentence with a flush (apparently she had no problem calling Betty old but drew the line at calling Jules’ fashion sense anything insulting). “And I used your descriptions to ask where your room was.”

“They shouldn’t be giving out our information like that,” Jules muttered darkly.

Kacy flushed deeper, and Betty realized she had probably gotten that information without the Bed and Breakfast’s knowledge. 

“Ah, yes,” Betty said with a vigorous nod. “There was that clump of seaweed on the beach. Gave me a bit of a heart attack, didn’t it, Jules?”

“Oh, that thing?” Jules jumped in quickly. “They were cleaning it up when I had to bring you back here for a rest. I hope that isn’t why you came all this way.”

Kacy tsked, like she was expecting as much, and shook her head.

“I know you know what you saw, deep down,” she said, lowering her voice and leaning in even closer. “But your brain is just trying to make sense of the supernatural by creating a more believable story. I’ll be staying here until this mystery is solved, so please come to room 3B when you’re ready to give your truth.”

“Yesyes, dear, don’t forget our towels next time,” Betty said, shutting the door in Kacy’s face and turning to Jules.

“Well, not to sound like an old lady, but kids these days,” Jules said with a shake of her head. 

“She seems harmless enough,” Betty said. “At least, in the fact that no one credible is likely to believe her. But I don’t like having someone like that around, sticking their noses everywhere when I need to–”

“Do the same?”

“Solve a murder,” Betty finished, sticking her tongue out at Jules. 

“Well, I can always offer myself as a distraction,” Jules said. “I could go on about the history of monster hunters for a good hour if you need to slip away.” 

“Maybe,” Betty said, walking over to the window to look outside. 

Not that she was expecting a sudden pop-up Monster Convention to appear along the beach, but she was already ill at ease and out of her element here without the addition of nosy mortals.

“I’ll probably need you to help me investigate though,” she continued. “I don’t have my workshop with me, or any of my usual tools or contacts.”

“Do you have any contacts here?” Jules asked. 

As if the question summoned her, Betty spotted a familiar face on the beach, staring up at her through the window.

“Well… that’s a complicated answer,” Betty said slowly. “But there is a mermaid who will probably be here soon.”

And by soon, Betty meant that said mermaid, and ex, was walking towards their Bed and Breakfast as she spoke.

This vacation was really starting to seem like a bad idea.