Murder Most Meow

by Louise Lynn

  Hazel gaped at it, and wasn't sure if she could finish one muffin, let alone two. Her stomach clenched and she groaned internally. This is why talking to Darla Maple was never a good idea.

  The headline read:

  Hazel Hart claims a Ghostly Curse killed Dominic Dane.

  Plus Exclusive Final Interview with Dead Actor.

  Is this why He was Killed?

  "You said a ghost killed him?" Violet said and her mouth dropped open. "You told me not to believe in ghosts—that what your mom said was nonsense and, uh, no offense, Mrs. Hart.”

  Hazel shook her head, and felt her own jaw drop. She snapped it closed. “Oh no. This is worse than I ever could have possibly imagined."

  Her mother’s warm hand rubbed her back. "There, there, dear. You’ll get over the initial shock soon enough. And then you'll come to see that what you said wasn't so crazy after all. The man didn't respect the play. And there were plenty of other incidences of the Scottish play resulting in injury or death, so this is just another one. I'm happy you finally opened up to the possibility of something otherworldly."

  Hazel's shoulders slumped. "Mom, I didn’t open up to anything. I told Darla the most outlandish thing I could think of because I thought she’d print it anonymously! I didn't want to tell her any actual facts from the case. And I was trying to get an early look at the interview. Now this," she said and stabbed her finger into the interview like she might be able to make it disappear with a touch. Of course, she couldn’t. "The whole town is going to think I'm a lunatic who believes in curses and ghosts."

  Hazel’s mother gave her a stern look. "A lunatic, huh? Well it's nice to see what you think of your own mother." She pushed up her wireframe glasses as she said it.

  Hazel let out a heavy sigh and shook her head. “Most of the town thinks you're eccentric, not crazy. And I—I don't believe it was a ghost. I don't believe in ghosts. Period! Or curses. And now…”

  Her mother crossed her arms. "And now what?"

  Hazel bit her bottom lip. She didn't want to say: ‘And now they would think she was just like her mother.’

  Because, her mother was right. While Maureen Hart had a bit of a reputation for being eccentric, no one thought she was harmful. And most people around town liked her.

  So why did this particular thing feel like the end of the world?

  Hazel wasn't sure. At least the article didn't mention anything about her working with the sheriff's department on the case. That would make everything worse and reflect badly on Colton, which she definitely didn't want.

  “Did dad see it?" Hazel asked slowly.

  Her mother shrugged. “He did, and he laughed. So you don't have to worry about him thinking poorly of you. Since he is married to a lunatic and all."

  “Mom—I'm sorry," Hazel said and gave her a strained smile.

  Her mother gave her a long look and sighed. "Okay, listen. You're not used to spouting strange ideas. I understand that. But, what did it feel like when you first tried to solve a murder and no one would listen to you?"

  Hazel thought back to the first case she'd ever had to solve, which hadn't been because she wanted to, but because her own reputation was on the line. "Not great. I mean, I knew I was onto something, but Sheriff Cross was pretty dismissive. Rude even."

  Violet snorted. "So he's not just that way to me? He doesn't deserve you, Hazel."

  Hazel gave Violet a tight smile. "He's a lot better now. And, at the time, I was a bit of a nuisance. I was butting into an investigation that I didn't have any business butting into, in his point of view. So, I see where he was coming from now.” Then she turned back to her mother. “And, you're right, but I still don't believe in ghosts or curses. This is going to be awkward,” she said and stared at the headline.

  Her mother waved her hand, and the gauzy layers of her tunic flowed after it. "Awkward? I've already framed it. And I hung it in your bedroom at home so you'll know at least one person is proud of you. Whether you really believed it or not, the fact that you said it is something."

  Hazel let out a huff of laughter and shook her head. Of course, if one person would be proud of her for saying something as ridiculous as a ghost killed Dominic Dane, it would be her mother. But, at least she also had one person who wouldn't be whispering how crazy she was in the shadows of the festival.

  Though, she could imagine Esther's response, and Celia's would be even worse. Not to mention Sheriff Cross.

  Now that she thought of it, what was she supposed to tell Sheriff Cross?

  She took another bite of her muffin to mull that over when the doorbell rang.

  "I'll get it," Violet said and jumped up.

  "She's chipper this morning.” Hazel chewed on the muffin. It was apple cinnamon with a praline topping, one of her favorites.

  "Why are you here?" Violet hissed after she got the door, and Hazel felt her stomach clench.

  "I think you know why,” Darcy said, his voice laced with urgency. “I had to ride my bike to beat them, but if you come with me now—”

  Hazel leaned sideways to see around the kitchen counter to the front door. Sure enough, Darcy Allen stood there, his face slick with sweat and his hair matted to his forehead. Behind him, a squirrel ran up one of the towering cedar trees that littered the property.

  “I’m not going with you, and I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Violet said and moved to shut the door.

  Darcy Allen stopped it. “Violet, please, listen to me!”

  “Oh, what is this all about?” Hazel’s mother asked and raised her brows. “Young love?”

  Hazel snorted and stood. If Darcy wasn’t going to take a hint, she’d have to intervene. “One-sided young love, maybe. Darcy, what did I say about giving Violet space?”

  Darcy froze, then smoothed his hands over his festival T-shirt. “I—I had to come. If Violet doesn’t get out of here right now—”

  Before he could finish, Sheriff Cross’s SUV rumbled down the long gravel driveway. It kicked up dust, and Hazel leaned against the doorframe and raised a brow. Right. Breakfast. He was coming for that. At least she had something to offer besides cereal.

  “Oh no. I’m too late.”

  “Too late to get out of here before my uncle finds you, yeah!” Violet said and shook her head.

  The SUV pulled to a stop and the door opened.

  Darcy balled his hands into fists. He looked ready to cry. “They aren’t here for me. I’ve been trying to help you—protect you, Violet. They came for you. They know you killed Dominic Dane!”

  Chapter 17

  “It's good to see you, Violet. You doing okay?" Sheriff Cross said in his deep voice—a note of worry evident. His eyes slid over everyone standing at the open door.

  The three of them, Hazel, Violet and Darcy, stared back, and none of them said a word. Though Darcy’s revelation rang in Hazel’s ears just as assuredly as it rang in Violet’s.

  Anthony Ray meowed, butted his head on the sheriff’s clean dark green pants, and trotted outside to give half-hearted chase to the squirrel. The squirrel in question darted up the tree, chattering at the cat, and Anthony Ray pretended he didn’t hear and licked his paw.

  Violet shrugged as her uncle gave her a quick sideways hug, and the lot of them stepped inside.

  A copy of the Cedar Valley Post was gripped in Sheriff Cross’s left hand. Hazel felt her heart sink. “I think you know why I’m here,” he said with a heavy sigh.

  “Breakfast, of course!” Maureen said from the kitchen. She raised a brow at Darcy, but ushered him toward the table with Sheriff Cross nonetheless. “Plenty of muffins for everyone. And there’s coffee and fruit too. Eat up. My, you look like you’ve seen a ghost, young man.”

  Darcy paled and shook his head. “Uh, no. I should, uh, get back to the—”

  Sheriff Cross put a heavy hand on Darcy’s shoulder. “I need to have a word with you and Violet, but first, I’m going to have breakfast. Hazel promised yesterday, and I intend to hold her to it.�
�� He smiled his wolfish smile, the one Hazel hadn’t seen in a long time.

  "I can explain," she said and felt her eyes dart to the paper.

  Sheriff Cross’s smile widened, and he took a muffin from the plate. Bran with oatmeal on top. "You can explain why you told Darla Maple a cursed ghost killed Dominic Dane?"

  Hazel glanced at the teens, who were both doing their best not to look at Sheriff Cross, and then at her own mother, whose eyes were keen with interest behind her glasses.

  “I thought it prudent not to give vital information about the investigation to the press. Do you disagree?” Hazel asked and sat, her back ramrod straight.

  To her surprise, Sheriff Cross laughed. Over the last few months, she thought she’d gotten to know his laughs. This wasn’t the exasperated one—which she heard often enough. Or the one he used when he was tired and nothing was funny, but he had to do something, so laugh it was. This was his honest laugh, and it couldn’t have been more out of place.

  “I don’t disagree, but I’m not sure the festival council is going to be happy about it. But that’s not my job. I’m trying to solve a crime, and I know you are too. But Hazel Hart believes in ghosts wasn’t what I was expecting when I woke up this morning,” he said and took a hearty bite of the muffin. His blue eyes sparkled, and Anthony Ray plopped by his boots and purred.

  Hazel tore into her own muffin the way Violet had. “Yeah, I know it’s going to take awhile for me to live this down.”

  Maureen tutted as she bustled about getting coffee for the sheriff and orange juice for Darcy. “There’s nothing to live down. She did it for the case. You should be proud of her.”

  Colton took a long, slow sip of the offered coffee. “I never said I wasn’t.”

  Hazel noted that he hadn’t looked at Darcy or Violet just as much as they hadn’t looked at him. However, she decided not to press the matter. If Sheriff Cross wanted a break from the case, she couldn’t blame him, even if her mind worked frantically to put the pieces together.

  “Did I buy us some time, at least?” Hazel said and took the final bite of her second muffin. Despite the way her stomach churned, she’d eaten them both.

  The same couldn’t be said for Violet, whose poor blueberry muffin was more crumb than anything.

  Darcy hadn’t touched anything on the table.

  What did that mean? Guilty conscience or something else?

  Sheriff Cross nodded around a bite and brushed the crumbs from his lips. “You did. Though now everyone is talking about curses and ghosts. And Angela Dane was at the station this morning demanding I arrest the paparazzi for harassment and blackmail, but she wouldn’t give me the details. I told her I’d think about it.”

  “At least someone involved in the production has sense,” Hazel’s mother said and shook her head.

  Hazel ignored that, and finished off the last of her coffee and orange juice in two long gulps. “Did she give you a name?”

  Sheriff Cross had to fish in his notebook for that. “Sonny Pirelli. She said he followed her from L.A, but without a restraining order, I can’t legally do anything to him.”

  That name was familiar. Hazel frowned. “I saw him at the bar yesterday. Did he really try to blackmail her?”

  Sheriff Cross’s expression sharpened. “She claims he did, but there was no proof. I would like to speak to the man, if I can find him. However, I think we all need to get to my office to discuss a few other things.”

  Darcy flinched at that, and Violet paled.

  Hazel nodded stiffly. She had a feeling it had to do with the bag the deputies pulled from the lake. But if he wanted them all at the Sheriff’s Office for that, it couldn’t be good.

  After they finished their meal—the second most awkward breakfast Hazel had ever experienced. The first went to the meal she’d had with her then mother-in-law after she decided to file for divorce. However, murder hadn’t been a subject at the time.

  Sheriff Cross took the teens in his SUV, and Hazel opted to drive herself in her truck. She got Anthony Ray in his leash and harness and found her mother sitting in the passenger seat. "What are you doing? Your car is here."

  Her mother shook her head. "You expect an old woman to drive herself all the way to the sheriff's Office?"

  Hazel rolled her eyes and plopped in the driver seat. "You drove yourself here. And don't you have a booth to run?"

  “Oh, Tess can handle that."

  Hazel gave her mother that look that she’d learned from Esther. It was the same look Esther gave Ruth when the eight-year-old decided not to clean her room and came up with some elaborate excuse for her reasoning.

  Maureen Hart bent under it quicker than Ruth did. "Oh fine. I won't go with you. You’re trying to keep me out of the loop like normal, even if I can be of some help."

  “I’m not trying to keep you out of the loop on purpose, but I'm not sure how much of a police investigation I'm supposed to share with my family."

  Which was only a partial truth, really. When had Hazel been shy about sharing details of the other investigations with her family? Never. Although she hadn't been working unofficially with the sheriff on those cases either.

  "Something else is bothering you. I can tell. So, what is it? And don't say it's the ghost thing because I know that's a bunch of baloney."

  Hazel chewed on her bottom lip and stared out the windshield at the lovely spring day before her. Anthony Ray curled on the seat between Hazel and her mother and licked his tail. "It's this case. I feel like instead of crossing off suspects, we’re just accumulating more. Everyone had a reason to want Dominic Dane dead, and nobody has a solid alibi."

  Her mother nodded sagely. "Well except for you. And Dominic himself."

  Hazel snorted. "If he was trying to commit suicide, that would've been the most ridiculous way to do it. Though—Darcy said something when he came to the door. You were inside so I don't think you caught it, but he thinks Violet had something to do with the murder."

  Maureen let out a harsh little laugh. "Violet? What would Violet have against Dominic Dane?"

  Hazel thought about what Violet had told her, and the guilt gnawed at her insides once again. Maybe she should have told Colton the day before instead of leaving it up to a teenager.

  It felt like she was going to have to betray someone’s trust one way or the other, she couldn't have it both ways. She couldn't be a mediator between them without bending in someone’s favor. And that meant one of them would grow to resent her.

  "I don't know if she had a great reason for wanting to hurt him, but she looked up to him, and then she found out what he was. It's disappointing, to say the least."

  Her mother let out a long sigh. "Yes. To see your idol become human is a pain, but is it a reason to kill someone?"

  Hazel shrugged. “Not a great reason. The people with the best motives are his wife, Christopher Allen, and possibly Darcy, I guess."

  Her mother made a noncommittal humming sound. "Well, I'm sure you'll figure it out. And if you need any other help with the ghostly side of things, you know who to ask. I'd be happy to take my spirit board to the stage and do a reading."

  Hazel grinned. "I'll let you know if the sheriff wants something like that."

  Chapter 18

  Since she’d had a little heart-to-heart with her mom, Hazel was a good ten minutes behind Sheriff Cross, Violet, and Darcy.

  She climbed out of the truck and took Anthony Ray with her because she doubted the sheriff would mind.

  When she stepped in, Edith, the ancient secretary with a hairdo from the sixties, raised both of her drawn-on eyebrows and thumbed toward the back. “The sheriff and those kids are in interrogation room A. I'm assuming that's why you're here?"

  Hazel wished she’d brought Ethel a muffin considering how much the woman liked Esther’s treats. "Yeah, thanks. Is Angela Dane here?"

  "Not that I know of. She was earlier, but she didn't stick around. Stormed off in a huff. Nasty woman, if you ask me.”

 
Hazel hurried to the interrogation room and knocked once before she opened the door.

  Violet was in tears, staring at a sopping pile of items on the table in the middle of the room. Sheriff Cross stood in the corner, pinching the bridge of his nose.

  "I didn't do anything, tell him, Hazel. I'm innocent!” Violet cried.

  "What is this stuff?" Hazel said and stepped up to the table.

  The only item she recognized was a wig, the same one she'd seen floating in Lake Celeste yesterday. It was long and auburn and similar enough to Angela Dane's actual hair, if not for the lake water, that someone could've used it to impersonate her, Hazel thought.

  The other items were some crumpled pieces of paper and an oversized cable cutter.

  That last one looked like the murder weapon. Sharp enough to cut through several inches of thick cable, though whoever used it had to have a decent amount of strength. Those cables were built to be sturdy.

  “What the deputies dredged out of the lake. And Darcy Allen is the one who tossed it there, but I can’t talk to him without his parents present, so this is where we're at," he said and motioned around the room.

  Hazel frowned at both of them. “Violet, do you know what any of this stuff is?”

  Violet shook her head mutely, her red-rimmed eyes wide. “No. I never even saw this bag in the costume tent. Ever! Ask Farrah! And that wig—it could belong to the costume department, but I don’t know. They have a ton of wigs.”

  “Okay, Colton, do you think your niece is a killer?”

  Sheriff Cross opened his mouth, then snapped it shut. “I can’t have a personal opinion and be a good detective.”

  “Hogs wash! I knew my mother wasn’t a killer, and I think you know Violet isn’t either.” Hazel pinched her lips into a line. "Okay, this is ridiculous. I can't stand in the middle of you two any longer. Violet, tell your uncle what happened when you snuck out. Now! I'm not keeping secrets for you any longer. And Colton, you listen. Don't judge her and don't make mincing little decisions about what she can and can’t do with her time. She's fifteen, and you need to protect her, but you also need to let her grow up. Please. She feels stifled, and you feel overwhelmed. You guys both need to bend a little to make this work."