The Chakra Outline

by Angie Cabot

And then it hit me, and I knew the truth.

  “Break it up!” I said now that I was closer. I stopped again to catch my breath.

  Carl backed away from Diana.

  She turned toward me.

  “Go away, Kathy, or I’ll kill you, too.”

  “We’ll see about that,” I said. “I brought my own secret weapon.”

  I held up the nine ball.

  “What are you going to do with that?” Diana asked.

  “This.”

  I reared back and threw the ball at her as hard as I could.

  It sailed over her shoulder and landed in the snow a few yards past her.

  She laughed. “Somehow I think you got picked last in gym class.”

  That was true, but she didn’t need to rub it in.

  She stalked toward me.

  Carl followed her, but he wasn’t moving fast enough.

  I did what any intelligent woman would do.

  I turned and ran away.

  Chapter Thirty

  My feet were frozen. My hands burned from the cold. The wind kicked up and cut right through my shirt, and I wished I’d been smart enough to grab a coat before trying to be Wonder Woman.

  Okay, I was better dressed than Wonder Woman, so at least I had that going for me.

  Dashing through the snow requires a one horse open sleigh. Try doing it in cute boots, blue jeans, and a button up blouse.

  I slipped and fell into the snow, rolled over, and tried to get up.

  Diana gained on me, knife in hand.

  Carl threw his knife at Diana, but his aim wasn’t even as good as mine. The knife landed in the snow ten yards away, and came closer to hitting me than her.

  Unless he was throwing it at me.

  “Sorry!” he said.

  Good. He was throwing it at Diana.

  Definitely not an Alpha.

  When I tried to scramble to my feet, I slipped again. The snow was slick and wet here where no shadows fell.

  Diana was almost on me.

  I rolled to the side, and kept rolling. There was a slight incline, and I slid down the slope toward a line of Ponderosa Pines.

  Diana gave chase.

  I rolled up to my feet, and turned just in time to dodge her attempt to stab me.

  We both fell down.

  “We’re like the Three Stooges,” I said as Carl slipped in the snow and went down, too.

  “I’m too old for this,” Diana said, picking herself up. She looked around for the knife.

  I took advantage of that, and darted forward, tackling her into the snow. We slid a few feet.

  She flailed at me, so I rolled over her, and grabbed a fistful of hair. I yanked on it, hard.

  “Ow!” she said. “Not fair! You’re cheating!”

  “You’re trying to kill me,” I said. “There’s no cheating in survival.”

  “I thought that was baseball,” Carl said.

  “That’s crying,” I said.

  He was panting for breath, but he climbed on top of Diana and pushed her hands to the ground. He dug his knees into her upper arms and sat on her.

  “You can let go of her hair now,” he said. “I’ve got her.”

  I let go, and tried to pull my hand free.

  “Ow!”

  “Sorry,” I said. Then I shook my head. “I take that back. I’m not sorry.” And I yanked my hand free.

  She howled in pain.

  “Serves you right, you witch,” I said.

  Only I didn’t say witch.

  Carl lowered his head and blew out a breath of air.

  “I’m whooped,” he said.

  “You mean whipped,” Diana said.

  “Zen?” I yelled. “It’s safe now. Olly olly oxen free!”

  She stepped out of the tree line fifty yards away.

  I waved her over.

  “I’m freezing,” I said.

  “Oh, sorry,” Carl said. “Here.” He unzipped his coat, and peeled it off. He reached into a pocket to take out his phone, then handed the jacket to me.

  “Like a true gentleman.”

  He shrugged, and tapped one of the apps on his phone. “Zen already has a coat.”

  “So you’d let me freeze if she needed it,” I said as I donned the ski jacket.

  “Yes, I would.”

  “She’s still not going to date you,” Diana said.

  “At least I won’t try to kill her.”

  Diana glared at me. “You were supposed to think Carl was the killer.”

  “He had motive and opportunity,” I said. “But he’s a beta male, and always will be.”

  “I thought I had you fooled,” she said. “What gave me away?”

  “You let the cat out.”

  She gave me a confused look.

  “Nico was meowing at the back door. She led me to Todd’s body, and the missing knife.”

  “What missing knife?” Diana asked.

  “There wasn’t a knife in Todd’s back.”

  “I didn’t take it. I saw that Zen had two athames in her room. I took one of those.”

  Zen was close now, and she overheard the last part of the conversation. “I took the knife out of Todd’s back,” she said. “I stepped out for a smoke, and saw the blade sticking up. Since someone used the athame from Elizabeth to kill Todd, I didn’t think we should leave it there to be used again.”

  “When Diana found out we were going to call the police, she panicked and attacked us. I tried to fight her off with the athame,” Carl said.

  “I didn’t see any tracks going off toward the other patio,” I said.

  Zen shook her head. “I went the other way.”

  She pointed, and I saw tracks leading from the back of the mansion out to the side. I hadn’t gone all the way around the drift with the bodies, so I missed it.

  Carl scratched his head and looked at Diana. “Why did you kill Elizabeth?”

  “She didn’t,” I said.

  “What?”

  “Todd killed Aunt Liz. Must have been a spur of the moment thing because it was really stupid.”

  “He didn’t know we were snowed in,” Diana said. “But yes, it was stupid. He really messed things up. We could have soldiered on like we have for years.”

  “And you took advantage of the murder to get rid of Todd, too.”

  “I should have been enough for him.”

  “But if he got arrested, you’d be free. Divorce is legal. Murder isn’t.”

  “He’s a cheater. He didn’t deserve to live.”

  Zen turned away, but not before I saw tears welling in her eyes.

  I touched her shoulder. “It’s not your fault,” I said.

  “It’s totally her fault,” Diana said.

  “She was wrong to have an affair, but you’re the one who killed your husband.”

  “And I would have gotten away with it, too,” she said.

  “Don’t you dare call me a meddling kid,” I said. “I’ll pull your hair again.”

  “I was going to say if not for that stupid cat.”

  “Nico may be a lot of things, but she’s not stupid.”

  “Maybe not,” Diana said. “But you’re stupid if you think I’ll confess any of this to the cops.”

  Carl smiled and held up his phone. “You don’t have to, Diana,” he said. “I recorded the entire conversation.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  We took Diana inside, tied her to one of the posts of the banister, and took turns watching her while Carl took the Jeep down to the main road to call the police.

  A few hours later, they arrested Diana. Carl gave them the recording of her confession as a file in the cloud, whatever that means. I don’t understand computers very well beyond the simple things.

  To get the police cars and emergency vehicles up the drive, they had to have someone plow it. That meant we could finally leave Bostwick Manor in the rearview mirror.

  But for now, I stood in the foyer to say my goodbyes.

  Morgan glared at m
e as she left. She shot another mean look at Nico, and touched the bandage on her hand where the cat had scratched her.

  Sandra reached out to shake my hand, but I pulled her into a quick hug.

  “Does this mean I still have a job?” she asked.

  “Absolutely.”

  “Then I’ll see you at work,” she said, and smiled.

  Emma and Jenn thanked me and Carl for catching the killer, or killers, in this case. “Are we doing this again next year?” Emma asked.

  “Only if there’s real food and no death,” I said.

  “Then you’ll want Jenn to do the cooking.”

  “You can cook?” I asked Jenn.

  She hesitated, then spread her hands. “Better than Emma,” she said. “You might want a real cook, though.”

  “Indeed.”

  They went back through the house to the servants’ entrance where their car was parked.

  Zen and Carl came up together.

  “Thank you,” Zen said. “You saved my life.”

  “Carl saved your life,” I said.

  “He might have helped,” she said, and touched his arm.

  He smiled. “It’s a start,” he said.

  “She’s still not going to date you.”

  His smile flickered and looked more sad. “I know,” he said. “But maybe she’ll introduce me to one of her single friends.”

  Zen side-eyed him. “We’ll see,” she said.

  “You must know some nice girl desperate enough to put up with a clown like me,” he said.

  “I was thinking about it in a different way,” she said, and touched his arm again. “I have to decide if I know anyone worthy of you.”

  He beamed. “I’ll walk you to your car,” he said to her.

  “I’d like that,” she said.

  I looked around the foyer. Nico sat on the bottom step of the north staircase. I could still make out paw prints from when she tracked in mud the other day.

  “Looks like it’s you and me,” Nico.

  She meowed.

  “Are you willing to adopt me?” I asked.

  She meowed again.

  “Okay,” I said. “I promise to never serve you turkey and giblets.”

  Nico padded over to me, and rubbed up against my leg.

  “I’ll take that as an affirmative. As long as I draw breath, you’ll always have a home.”

  She wandered toward the door as if she already knew that.

  I took one last look at Bostwick Manor. If I never set foot in this place again, it would be too soon.

  I picked up my suitcase, walked outside, and locked the door before heading to my car.

  ***

  Nico rode with me back to the Eye of Ra.

  The store was closed as I didn’t arrive until seven that evening, but Aunt Clara was there waiting, and she let me in.

  I set Nico down so she could explore, and Aunt Clara wrapped me in a tight embrace.

  “They told me about Liz,” she said.

  “I’m so sorry,” I said.

  “She only had a few more months to live,” Clara said. “And while I wish I could have shared those months with her, I’m glad she got to spend some time with you.”

  “It was only a few hours,” I said.

  “She would say it was worth it to be with her favorite niece.”

  “I’m her only niece.”

  “Don’t reframe the narrative, Kathy. She loved you. I love you.”

  “I loved her,” I said, and realized it was true beyond the required love we feel for family. “And I love you, too.”

  We both cried.

  Nico growled low in her throat then hissed in the back of the store.

  Aunt Clara let go of me. We wiped our eyes and wandered back to see what was amiss.

  Nico’s tail was fluffed, her ears back, and she kept herself low to the ground as she stared at an empty shelf about four feet up. The other shelves held knickknacks. Little unicorns, skulls, dragons and such.

  “What’s wrong, Nico?” I asked.

  Aunt Clara pointed at the shelf. “That’s Hannah Rose’s spot.”

  I remembered the black cat from my youth, and how she used to sun herself on that shelf because during the daytime, the window let shafts of light shine on it.

  “Um, Clara, you do know Hannah Rose is dead, right?”

  “Of course,” Clara said. “But try telling that to her.”

  “You really believe in ghosts,” I said. It was not a question.

  She nodded. “Some spirits stay behind. Normally, they have unfinished business. Hannah Rose stays because she loves me. Edward stays for reasons he won’t tell me.”

  I didn’t believe any of that, but Clara clearly did. That’s why they called her Crazy Clara. But she was my aunt, and I loved her. She could believe whatever she wanted.

  I looked around, and saw nothing.

  “Please don’t tell me Aunt Liz is here?”

  “Oh no.” Clara patted my shoulder. “Your Aunt Liz finished her business, dear. She brought you home to me.”

  Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed this book, please consider writing a short review.

  Katherine Sinclair will return in

  The Harmonic Homicide

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  My mother loved cozy mysteries. She was always reading. Some of her favorite authors were Lilian Jackson Braun, Agatha Christie, Ngaio Marsh, M.C. Beaton, Dorothy Gilman, Carolyn Hart, Dorothy L. Sayers, Charlotte MacLeod, Ellis Peters, and others. That’s not to say she didn’t enjoy other books, too. She read hundreds of Harlequin romance novels, and plenty of bestselling authors including Dick Francis, Tony Hillerman, Barbara Kingsolver, Georgette Heyer, Wallace Stegner, and so many others.

  We used to exchange books. I got her to read Janet Evanovich, Robert Crais, Carl Hiaasen, and others. She enjoyed them, of course, but at the end of the day, she preferred books that didn’t have sex, violence, and profanity. Cozy mysteries were one of her escapes from the real world. She passed away in 2002. There are still times when I’ll read a book and think, Mom would have loved this, and I’ll have the urge to call her.

  This novel ... no, this entire series is dedicated to her memory. I wanted to write something she would have enjoyed. I hope I succeeded.

  One more thing before I go. When I was a kid, I had a cat named Nikko (pronounced the same as Nico in the book). She had loads of personality, and used to go around the neighborhood as if she owned it, and I suppose she did. I had a special seven note tune I could whistle, and Nikko would come running to me. She was the best cat I ever had. When I decided to write a cozy mystery, I knew I needed a cat so, of course it had to be Nikko. I wasn’t going to go so far as to have her solve the crimes as The Gordons did in Undercover Cat, which was made into the delightful movie, That Darn Cat in 1965 (I haven’t seen the remake because the original held a special place in my heart). But I wanted her to take part in the story.

  Thank you so much for taking the time to read this novel. I had a blast writing it. Small towns in fiction have more than their share of murders, so I hope you’ll join me when Kathy has to solve another murder in Cassandra Springs. Until then, may your life be filled with love and laughter.

  Sincerely,

  Angie.