A Thrift Shop Murder

by N. M. Howell

I heard the phone moving again and Pussy purred against my ear. “You doing okay, Pricetag?” A shriek sent a sharp dart of pain through my eardrum. “Watch where you’re stepping Fluffy, just hold the damn phone for me so I can talk to her.” Pussy came back on the line. “Price?”

  “I’m still here. Deaf in one ear, but still here,” I said. “Pussy, why didn’t the cops start to investigate Agatha’s death as suspicious immediately? I mean, it doesn’t sound like it was a subtle murder.”

  Pussy’s voice was tight as a drum. “This is where things start to get really dark, Price. Seems like somebody was pulling strings in the police department. The coroner who was dealing with Agatha’s autopsy suddenly got a big promotion out of town, and his assistant was offered a last-minute spot on a big fancy international conference in Zurich, and in between all the sudden, inexplicable chopping and changing, it seems Agatha’s files just mysteriously vanished and her case slipped through the cracks.”

  “What?” I screwed my face up. “That’s insane.”

  Pussy made a sound low in his feline throat. “It might be a little more sinister than that, Price. When Officer Fitzgerald noticed her file was missing, he started to dig around, and from what I overheard today, he’s pretty certain somebody with a lot of money or a lot of power was trying to make the whole case just disappear.”

  “But they didn’t succeed in making it disappear.” I stared at my white knuckles on the steering wheel. “And now they don’t need to,” I whispered, realization hitting me like a smack in the face. “Because they have me to take the fall.”

  I could hear the guys’ voices in my ear but I couldn’t make out the words through the roar of my own heartbeat. It was real. It was all real. The ghost, the magic, the men, the murder. It was real and it was going to swallow me whole.

  “Priscilla!” Tom’s commanding bark cut through the whirlwind of my thoughts and I turned toward the phone. As if he could instinctively sense that I was listening once more, he continued in a low voice. “Price, we’re going to fix this. Now we know we’re looking for somebody with money or power, and we’re going to find them. We’re going to make sure justice is done, Price. We won’t let them take you down, okay? Do you hear me?” I mumbled something incoherent and Tom raised his voice. “Do you believe me, Price? I need to hear you say the words so I know you can hear me.”

  “I hear you,” I mumbled. I took a deep breath, imagining the three guys standing in Agatha’s living room. Tom with a deep furrow in his brow, Finn’s green eyes brimming with worry and compassion, and Pussy, well, him with his whiskers and fur. An uncontrollable giggle swelled from deep in the pit of my stomach and burst from my lips.

  My shoulders shook as tears of hysterical laughter rolled down my cheeks. I heard Tom arguing with the others. “She’s still there, but I think she’s having some sort of a breakdown.”

  “I’m fine,” I cut across him. I took a deep breath. “I’m okay. You’re right, we know more now that we did this morning and that’s a good thing.” I lifted my chin, thinking of Harlow and his quicksilver eyes. “And you’re right; we’re going to find this granny-killer, and we’re going to nail him.” In the background I could hear Finn saying that Agatha was not technically a granny and Tom telling Finn to shut up, and I grinned. “Okay, guys, break it up. I’ll be home in a few minutes and I’ll drop by Dot’s place on the way home and pick up some lunch. Try not to cough up any hairballs before I get back.”

  I killed the call and started the engine with a newfound sense of determination. I was almost at Bewitching Bites coffee shop, when I caught sight of a familiar face out of the corner of my eye. Short, bobbed, ice-white hair shone in stark contrast with her long black fur coat. I stared at the tall elegant figure as I pulled my car up to the curb, I would recognize that woman’s style anywhere.

  I rolled down my window. ”Would you like a ride home, Bianca?”

  Startled, she took a moment to recognize who I was before smiling gratefully at me. “That would be lovely, dear. Thank you.” I watched her reach for the door and wondered would she be upset if she knew Harlow Monroe was insinuating she had been a danger to his cousin. Bianca pulled off her gloves as she folded her hands on her lap in the passenger seat. Long, slender, elegant hands, the kind that were made for playing piano and mending dolls. Not strong enough to snap a spine. She gave me a reserved smile. “I’m just down the next right. I thought I’d take my physicians advice and go for a little stroll, but these legs of mine aren’t what they used to be; you couldn’t have pulled over at a better time.”

  “I’m glad to be able to help.” I smiled as I pulled back onto the road, thinking the exact same thing. Surely, it was serendipity that had led me straight into Bianca’s path, just after Harlow had tried to send me after her. Maybe he didn’t have a clear motive for wanting Agatha dead, but Harlow certainly had the money to twist a few arms in Salem Police Department. Before I could ask Bianca anything, my phone buzzed. I glanced down at the flashing screen and my stomach cramped.

  Officer Fitzgerald knocking on the door, we think he’s watching the apartment. Park in the lane and come in through the back door. – Finn

  I quickly slid the screen off before Bianca had a chance to see the message. “Everything all right, dear?” she asked, my own discomfort obviously weighing heavily in the car.

  “Just peachy,” I lied. “How have you been today?”

  “Oh, you know,” she drawled, waving her gloved hand near my face as she spoke. “Same old. Clients here and clients there. Never a day’s rest for a haggard old woman.”

  I gave her a half-smile. “I don’t think anyone could accuse you of looking haggard or old, Bianca.” I wasn’t lying. She looked great for her age, not a day over sixty if I could hedge my bets.

  “Why, thank you, dear.” Her voice was disingenuous, as if she was used to being showered with flattery. “What are you doing on this side of town? Lovely car, by the way; I pegged you for more of a bicycle kind of girl.”

  I wasn’t sure whether to take that as a compliment or not. “The keys were left out for me in the house. I had a few errands to run,” I quickly said, doing my best to come up with an excuse for driving around town in a dead woman’s vehicle. I frowned through the windscreen, surprised Bianca hadn’t recognised the car as Agatha’s. “Wasn’t this Agatha’s car?”

  “Oh, yes, you’re right. How did I forget? Grief does strange things to the mind, doesn’t it?” Bianca lifted her finger to her eye as if to dab away a tear, which I suspected was more an act than anything if my memory of Agatha’s funeral served correctly. The older woman watched me from the shadow of her thick, blunt bangs. “I don’t mean to intrude, but I’m almost certain I spotted this car outside Harlow Monroe’s place earlier. You must have been paying him a visit, so sweet of you to check in on Agatha’s cousin. Not that they were close. Not in the end,” Bianca said. She skipped on with the conversation before I could interject. “Lovely house, isn’t it? I’d almost pay him a visit myself to get a look inside.”

  Despite her casual tone, I could feel Bianca watching me closely. “Yeah, it’s lovely. I just stopped by to share my condolences; I don’t remember seeing him at the funeral.”

  “Oh, he was there,” Bianca replied. “He’s simply a doll, isn’t he? He’s recovered so well from that whole embezzlement thing he was wrapped up in not far back. But I wonder how he’s getting on, really. People say it’s only a matter of time before he runs out of people to borrow from. It’s so sad when you see somebody caught in that cycle, isn’t it? Borrowing from Billy to pay John, my mother used to say. Like a house of cards, it’ll all fall down in the slightest breeze.” She glanced at me out of the corner of her eye. “He must be up the wall that dear Aggie didn’t leave him that place. Oh, just around this corner, dear.”

  I slowed to a crawl as we cruised the avenue. I took in the large houses and the expensive cars, I guessed if I picked a leaf from one of the straight trees lining the road, even that would
probably have smelled like money. A black kitten jumped onto pavement and Bianca wrinkled her nose. “How are you doing with those three cats of Agatha’s, by the way? Nasty little beasts. Have you had them checked out, yet? There’s a vet nearby, you know.”

  “Yes, I know. I took them to Tracy’s yesterday, actually,” I said. I tapped the steering wheel and felt a smile play over my lips. “I’m quite fond of the furry monsters, to be honest.”

  Bianca made a face like she had just walked in crap. “Rather you than me, dear,” she muttered. “So, you must have met Francis, then? Tracy’s assistant. Shame what happened between Agatha and him. Poor boy. He had such high hopes for his little fashion blog-log thingy.” She swivelled in her seat. “You know he chose all the outfits I wore to the International Conference of Dating Experts in San Francisco the week poor Agatha passed away? I was standing in front of hundreds of people head-to-toe in Chanel while she was breathing her final breath. So tragic.” She paused for effect, hand on heart, before launching into conversation again. “And did you know Francis dressed me for the City Council People of the Year Awards for the past three years running? My pictures got over a million hits on his instaphoto-whatever page. People were calling me a GILF for weeks.”

  I choked on a snort of laughter, turning it into a coughing fit to avoid the wrath of Bianca. She barely appeared to notice. “Poor Francis. Agatha was so pig-headed, kicking him out like that. Cutting off her nose to spite her face, typical Agatha. I really thought she’d at least make it up to him in her will, but I suppose she was stubborn to the end. Honestly, it was the last thing Francis needed after the Broadway fiasco.”

  “Broadway fiasco?” My eyebrows were practically touching my hairline. I was beginning to see what Tracy meant about Bianca.

  The white-haired beauty swivelled to face me. “You haven’t heard?” Bianca didn’t wait for me to answer before she launched into her tale of woe. “Francis was a drama major, you know. He was a pretty big deal on the Am Dram scene in high school—”

  “Am Dram?” I interrupted.

  Bianca pursed her lips. “Amateur dramatics. Anyway, that was in high school, but when he got to college, things really took off for him. There was no role the boy couldn’t play; he could have pretended to be my long lost son and I would have been convinced, such a chameleon. He got himself an agent before he’d even graduated and landed the role of Jack Worthing in The Importance of Being Earnest on Broadway.”

  “Wow.” Even I knew that was a big deal.

  Seeing she had my attention, Bianca’s voice lowered to a stage whisper—Am Dram style. “Opening night, Francis was caught in the alley behind the theatre, being earnest with a hunky cop who was meant to be on the beat. Well, the media had a field day. By the next day, his agent had dropped him, and his understudy was given the role of Jack. The understudy ended up landing a blockbuster movie the next year because of his performance in the role that should have belonged to Francis. Dejected, poor Francis came home and trained to be a veterinary technician. Tragic.”

  Bianca’s thin lips curved into a wicked smile. “But he still has an eye for the cops.” She pressed a finger to her lips as though we were sharing a secret. “Between you and me, my agency set him up with the big man in Salem Police Department and the man is besotted with young Francis. He’d do anything for him.” She patted her hair. “I wouldn’t be surprised if I need to get a hat for the chapel for a summer wedding. Another win for D’Arcy Dating Agency.”

  My stare was frozen on Bianca’s face as the piece of the puzzle clicked into place inside my skull. A life twice ruined, a convincing actor, the head of police wrapped around his little finger. “Dear?” Bianca tapped my arm sharply and motioned for me to stop the car. “This house is mine.”

  Numbly, I pulled over in front of a beautiful white corner-lot house, built in Art Deco style. Bianca turned to me with a cheery smile. “Thank you so much for taking pity on an old woman. Don’t you believe any of the nasty things anyone in town might be saying about you, you’re a good girl, and you inherited that place fair and square. Don’t let the rumors run you out of town, Salem is your home now.” She stepped gracefully out of the car and gave me a queen’s wave.

  Before I could even respond, she was out the door and halfway up to her house, her feet as swift and light as a ballerina’s.

  Chapter Twenty

  To say I was overwhelmed would have been an understatement. I sat in the car outside Bianca’s house for what could have been hours, lost in my own thoughts as I tried to sift through the jumble of information spinning through my mind. When I finally gathered my thoughts enough to drive, I couldn’t bring myself to call into Bewitching Bites for lunch. The thought of what else I might learn about my neighbors from sweet, nervous Dot was enough to turn my stomach.

  I parked the car beside a bland-looking deli, but before I could open my door, my cell buzzed inside my pocket. I frowned at the unfamiliar number on the display and answered cautiously, ready to kill the call if I heard Officer Bert Fitzgerald on the line. “Hi, Price?” A familiar voice sounded through the receiver.

  My shoulders relaxed. “Tracy, how are you?”

  “Fantastic, thank you.” I could almost hear her easy smile through the phone. “How have you been? How are the cats?”

  “They’re great, thanks for asking. Driving me a bit crazy, but we’re all doing just fine.” I paused, uncertain how to proceed.

  Tracy filled the silence. “Listen, I hope you don’t mind me using your phone number from the cat’s file, but there’s an awesome little spot just down the road from my office and I was wondering if you’d care to meet me there? I have a feeling you’ll love it.”

  I paused for a moment. The guys were waiting for me, and they’d sounded worried on the phone, but on the other hand, Tracy might have some information we could use. And I really, really wanted a decent coffee. “You know what? That sounds lovely. What’s the name of it?”

  Tracy’s voice laughed through the receiver. “The Three Cats, if you believe it.”

  Of course it was. I shook my head. “Sounds great. I’ll look it up on my phone and meet you there soon?”

  “I can be there in fifteen,” Tracy said. “See you then.”

  I sent a quick text to Agatha’s phone before I started the engine, promising to return with the finest take-out lunch The Three Cat’s could make. I drove back through the easy streets of Salem city, guided by Google Maps in my phone. When I arrived at the cute little cafe, Tracy was sitting in at a table in a cozy corner of the café. There was a painting of three massive black cats on the wall, and all the servers wore cute little cat T-shirts.

  “Nice place.” I took a seat across the table from Tracy.

  She smiled at me. “I thought you would like it, the perfect place for a dog lover with three adopted cats, right?” She winked at me and I laughed. “Nice to see you again.”

  The waitress took my order, and in no time I was sipping on a piping hot soy caramel latte. It was pure bliss, and I closed my eyes and let myself relax and enjoy the moment. It was exactly what I needed.

  “You look like you’ve had a hell of a day,” Tracy said. She was drinking a steaming cup of green tea and watching me carefully.

  I groaned. “You don’t know the half of it. I swear to God, everyone in this city is nuts. I think you lied when you said they weren’t.”

  Tracy grimaced. “Yeah, there are a lot of interesting characters around here, that’s for sure, but I think you get that anywhere. Anyone in particular bothering you today?”

  Unease prickled the nape of my neck as I stared at the pretty vet. Why was she being so nice to me? She was Frankie’s boss. Maybe she knew Harlow, too. Maybe they all knew each other. I lifted my cup to my lips and sipped slowly, trying to remember any of Dr. Lee’s advice. I needed to keep a grip on reality. The whole world wasn’t against me. Probably. “Oh, nobody really,” I lied. I felt Tracy’s gaze sharpen. I took a gulp of my latte and tried to think
of the least incriminating topic. “Well, mainly those two old ladies that were at Agatha’s funeral.” I gestured for the waitress to bring me a second coffee. “Do you know them well?”

  Tracy groaned. “Trust me, you can’t live around here and not know them. Bianca and Dot are big characters. What have they done now?”

  I drained my mug, waiting anxiously for my second cup to arrive. “Not much, really. I just ran into Bianca today and she had a few things to say about people in the neighborhood.”

  “Bianca has more than a few things to say about pretty much everyone, if you ask me,” Tracy said.

  I nodded my agreement. “So, Agatha was close with them? I didn’t really get that impression from the way they were acting at her funeral.”

  Tracy leaned back in her chair, contemplating her answer. “When I first arrived in Salem, the three of them were inseparable. I used to see them together all the time, they were always out causing some sort of mischief in the neighborhood, like three children in grown women’s bodies. Then something changed.”

  “Something changed?” I prompted.

  “Yeah.” Tracy stared into her cup for a moment before meeting my eye. “I think they had some sort of a falling out. I spotted them in Dot’s coffee shop a few times, after hours when they used to have their doll making sessions, and they were just bickering and picking at each other. “ I raised my eyebrows and she grinned. “Even more than usual.” She frowned. “Really going for it, you know?” I nodded and Tracy swirled her tea. “And then Agatha just stopped coming round. She stopped meeting the others, stopped going to the coffee shop, stopped harassing the people who came to admire Frankie’s displays in her windows. Even stopped going on her trips to gather the stuff to sell in the store, she sent Frankie instead.”

  “That’s strange,” I said.

  Tracy smiled at the waitress as she placed a fresh latte in front of me. “Yeah, it was really strange. And sad. Agatha wasn’t an easy woman, don’t get me wrong, but she was full of life before she fell out with her friends. I think that maybe Bianca and Dot feel a little bit guilty about the way things ended for the old friend. It’s hard to accept you left it too late to offer an olive branch, maybe it’s easier for someone like Bianca D’Arcy to pretend she doesn’t care instead?”