She parked her car in the unmarked parking lot, and shoved her keys in the back pocket of her jeans. She pulled her jacket tightly around her. She noticed, first, a window to the right of the front door had been left open. She wondered why Sandra would need to open the window if she more than likely had the key. She made a note to mention this to Wylie and see if he could explain that. The fact remained, though, that it was possible that the window had simply been left open by Martin, but the previous night had been chilly, so she doubted that was the case.
She walked up to the door, and pressed gently on it, wondering if it had been left unlocked. She had already decided to play dumb if she were caught snooping around. The museum and library were usually open during the day anyway, so she could actually just want a book. She couldn’t help but find some small humor in that, since the last time she had visited the library had been 13 years ago when she was ten, and even then, she had been forced to visit by her fifth grade teacher. The huge, white door opened smoothly, without a creak. Cassidy noted that Martin, though elderly, must have taken great care to keep the house in nice condition. She stepped inside the library and saw that there was caution tape blocking access to the room just inside the door. She didn’t see anyone around, so she ducked under it and moved towards the glass case that she knew held the Fontaine artifacts. She remembered well the first time she had seen the mannequin swathed in the dark silk fabric of Claire’s dress. As a ten year old, she wanted that dress for herself. It would have made the perfect witch’s costume.
It didn’t take a great stretch of imagination to believe the rumors spread about Claire. She wore that dress, carried the leather bound book that could easily been made of human skin, judging by the soft brown color, and her best friend was a black cat. Cassidy remembered learning about Claire Fontaine before they took the field trip, but her teacher had been sure to discredit the claims of witchcraft. The precedent of the trip was simply to view some true local history and explore the books offered by the library. The saddest part was that Claire had not been that old when the fire that ravaged the west wing of the house took her life. Barely 30, Cassidy thought.
Cassidy stood before the glass case, examining the empty mannequin and the three shelves to the left, also bare. She would have remember the gown and the book anyway, but she could not recall the other two items that were missing. A poster to the left of the case indicated that one of the items was a golden colored candle that Claire had left in the study that night, next to her book. The final item, Cassidy noticed with some irony, was the twisted claw of a chicken. These items together screamed of witchcraft. It was easy for her to imagine that Claire herself had visited the house the night before to reclaim her belongings. A portrait to the other side of the case showed the two sisters, Claire and Veronica, as they were at a younger age, before Veronica and Jack had broken Claire’s heart, and before Claire died. Veronica looked disturbingly exactly like Sandra. Sandra Shaw must not look anything like her father. Claire was softer and lighter. Veronica sat with a straight back and dark hair pulled up into a tight style atop her head. Her skin appeared to be smooth, with a soft golden tone to it and her mouth was turned downward in a stern expression. On the opposite side of the spectrum, Claire had her blonde hair loose and flowing. Her eyes shone through the sepia toned picture and her soft lips turned upward into a smile. If Cassidy had to call one of them a witch, it would have been Veronica. As she turned from the portrait, she wondered if Claire had received her beauty from a deal with the devil.
Taking a look around the rest of the room, Cassidy noticed that just about everything was where she would expect it to be. She walked closer to Sherwood’s desk and saw that his chair had been pushed outward. Her imagination was creative enough for her to envision the man pushing away from his desk and falling over from his heart attack. She looked around the desk of some sort of light brown wood and saw nothing out of place. As she bent to look under the desk and check the garbage can, she heard voices and footsteps walking towards the room. She slid underneath the desk hoping to not be discovered. As she did so, she heard the police chief and another male voice.
“Wylie has Ms. Shaw down at the station for questioning now. I really can’t think of who else would have wanted to hurt Mr. Martin. The guy has kept to himself all these years like a hermit.” The Chief Jones said.
“Well I can imagine why.” The second voice said, “From the way he kept his rooms, it seems like he still had a real thing for the blonde one.”
“Yeah. Who’d have thought, eh? It’s a bit sad, when you think about it. She has been gone for almost 60 years.”
The two voices stopped for a second and Cassidy held her breath. She looked underneath the slat at the bottom of the desk and saw two sets of feet right in front of the door.
“Didn’t you check this crime scene tape when we came in?” Said the chief.
“I thought I did.” The second voice said, hesitant.
“Grimes, I seriously hope, for your sake, this scene has not been compromised.” The chief’s voice was stern. Cassidy felt a twinge of guilt. If she was caught now, she would have two very angry cops on her hands. She held very still and waited until the men walked out of the building, then she crawled out from under the desk and ran down one of the aisles of books. She was stopped when she saw something hanging out from between two books. It looked like latex or rubber. Cassidy checked that the front door was still closed as she walked closer to the item and she figured out that it was a mask. It was made of plain black rubber, but had the texture of fur pressed into it. Cassidy held it up and recognized a pair of ears and whiskers. She recognized the mask immediately, since she had been staring at one all day in The Twisted Claw’s Halloween clearance section. Cassidy, not wishing to be an obstruction to the investigation, shoved the mask back in between the two books where she had found it, then she remembered her car sitting in the parking lot.
She sighed at her stupidity, grabbed a book, and headed back towards the front of the library where Chief Jones, a respectable man of about 50 years old, stood in the entryway once more. When he saw her, his hand went to his sidearm automatically.
“What are you doing here?” He asked, his voice ringing with an authority that suggested he was not one to suffer fools.
“I was just looking for a book?” Cassidy said, “Where’s Mr. Martin?”
“How long have you been here?” He asked.
“Not long, I just came in and found the one I was looking for.” Cassidy held up a copy of To Kill a Mockingbird, the first book she recognized.
“Did you touch anything else?”
“Well,” Cassidy hesitated, “Aside from this book? There was something in one of the shelves, a mask, I think. I touched it to see what it was.”
The chief’s brow tightened in stress. His lips formed a thin line as he gestured, wordless, for Cassidy to show him to the mask. She led the way and pointed out the thin black rubber that poked out from the shelves.
“Is this where it was or did you move it?” he asked.
“I pulled it out a little bit to see what it was.”
“Okay, I’m going to need to take you in for fingerprints and questioning.” The chief was not happy about this. He said it seemed like quite a waste of time, but he refused to let Cassidy ruin his investigation.
While Cassidy was being questioned, she saw Wylie walk down the hall. She looked at him wide eyed and mouthed “help”. Wylie, being chivalrous, offered to take over questioning, but was turned down. As the detective asked her question after mindless question, she realized that Wylie had not told them about seeing her earlier that day. She hoped he planned on keeping that bit of information to himself, otherwise, she would likely become the next suspect.
Chapter 4:
Cassidy got home just in time to meet Thomas Caine at her door. He looked even more handsome than before, his dark hair tousled and his broad shoulders covered by a gray jacket. He was wearing jeans now, though. Cassidy note
d that this must be his casual wear.
“Hey, let me just change real quick. It’s been a super long day,” Cassidy said, unlocking the door and letting him in. “Hello, Kairi,” she said, as a force of habit. The bird responded with a ‘hello Kairi, squawk’. She went into her room and quickly located a fresh pair of jeans and a plain, purple t-shirt and threw them on. She paused for a second, then ran a brush through her hair and braided it with nimble fingers. One final look in the mirror told her that this was as good as it was going to get, so she went out to meet Thomas, who was staring at Kairi and talking quietly into his phone. When he saw her, he said his goodbyes and hung up.
“You look lovely. That purple brings out your blue eyes.” He smiled a million megawatt smile and held his arm out to her.
“Thank you,” she said, smiling and taking his arm.
“What kind of bird is this?” Thomas asked, conversationally As they walked out the door.
“She’s an eclectus.”
“So she’s a she, is she?” he asked. Noticing the ridiculousness of how he just asked that, he broke into a playful grin and chuckled. Cassidy joined in and chuckled with him, nodding.
“Yeah, in this kind of bird, the females have the red, purple, and blue plumage, like hers. The males are bright green and blue, mostly green.”
“Did you call her, Kairi?”
“Yeah, it means Melody. She likes to sing a lot, especially if I have music on.”
Kairi chirped and mumbled something unintelligible to them. She had a tendency to repeat everything the people around her said, so Cassidy figured she was just copying her. “Are you ready to go?” Cassidy asked, grabbing her keys and coat and opening the door for Thomas.
“Sure,” he looked back the bird once more before leaving, “lovely bird,” he muttered, though it was under his breath, so Cassidy wasn’t sure she had heard him correctly.
She took him around the town, first, sight-seeing to take in all of the tourist attractions nearby. Once they had seen everything within walking distance of the town, she suggested they stop at her favorite restaurant which offered outdoor dining. Thomas was only too happy to oblige.
“So, how did you come to live in this area?” Thomas asked, “I’d like to more about you.”
“Well,” Cassidy hesitated, wondering where to start. “I guess my parents and I used to live out here when I was younger. They kept the cottage I’m staying him as a vacation house when they had to move for my dad’s job. I am just making things work out until I figure out what I’d like to go to college for. I guess I am just taking a little longer than average to figure out what I really want.”
“So you started brewing coffee for Ms. Shaw? How long have you been working there?”
“One day, actually.” Cassidy smiled at Thomas’s shocked look.
“Well then, I am very glad I happened to come about on that one day.” He smiled, composure regained.
“Speaking of, why were you there today?” Cassidy asked. “I mean, I get the feeling Sandra isn’t very fond of you.”
Thomas shrugged. “I am a business man. I want to buy her old estate. It is a great location for an upscale hotel. The pond could hold a few paddle boats, and the land would make a stunning golf course or tennis court.” He took a drink. “Maybe even both.”
“What about the house as it stands?”
“I intend to tear down the house,” Thomas didn’t seem in the least bit phased about making that blunt statement.
“You can’t tear down the Fontaine Estate! It’s a part of local history!”
“I can’t? Well, I suppose you’re right. I can’t Sandra is particularly stubborn when it comes to her family’s estate. I had hoped…” He broke off, as though he didn’t want to finish that statement.
“Hoped what?” Cassidy asked, not planning on backing down.
Thomas shrugged, “I had hoped that the old man’s passing would inspire her to give in finally. I don’t mean to sound callous, but with the caretaker no longer living there, that’s one less thing on her conscience.”
Cassidy opened her mouth to berate him for, in fact, being callous. Before she could say anything, though, she was shocked by the sight of something no one could have expected. Claire Fontaine.
The small figure clad in black silk as making her way down the road. She seemed to be floating. At least she appeared to be a she, for she was, no doubt wearing the gown which had formerly belonged to one Claire Fontaine and had spent the many years since her death locked in a glass case in the home where she had lived and died. Her face was not visible under the black veil she wore, but her tiny, pale hands were clutching a brown leather bound book to her chest, and long, blonde hair poked out from under the edge of the veil.
Cassidy wasn’t the only one staring. Up and down the street, everyone had seen her. Without a sound, Claire Fontaine turned down an alley and was out of their sight. Cassidy finally regained her composure and ran towards the alley where the black form had disappeared. When she had passed through to the next street, she saw no witches, no ghosts, not even a stray blonde hair was to be found. She curse under her breath that she had let the culprit slip through her fingers. If only she had been paying better attention to the comings and goings along the road! If only she had not been so startled that she didn’t think to follow right away! Ugh! She stomped her foot like a child about to throw a tantrum and marched back to where Thomas was paying the bill for their meal.
“There you are! I thought you had run out on me.” Thomas said. “What was that all about?” He asked a bit more quietly once Cassidy reached his side.
“I don’t know, but I could have sworn it was Claire.”
“Well it was an interesting sight to say the least, but Claire? Claire Fontaine? How on earth would that be possible?”
“It isn’t.” Cassidy was sure it wasn’t possible. She thought.
Thomas took Cassidy home after that. She assured him that she had had a wonderful evening, and he assured her that he would come visit her at the Twisted Claw the next day.
Closing the door behind her and locking it, Cassidy sighed wistfully. Oh sure, he wanted to tear down the old mansion, but otherwise he was quite dreamy. Maybe she could talk him out of it. She resolved to do just that when she stepped forward and Kairi spoke, “Old man”
“What?” Cassidy said, thinking she misheard.
“Out of the way. Old man.” the bird pulled at one of its tail feathers with its beak, preening. “Old man out of the way.” She said
Cassidy gasped as she realized that Kairi was repeating something she had heard. The only other person who had spoken in that room in weeks was Thomas. She gritted her teeth and decided she was determined to find out what really happened to Mr. Martin.
Chapter 5:
When she arrived at The Twisted Claw the next morning, she was glad Sandra had had the foresight to give her a key before they left. Cassidy was sorry to see that the black cat masks were indeed the very same that were currently on sale for five dollars at the front of the store. She wondered if she would see Sandra that day, or if she had been detained by the police overnight. She imagined, after having heard the Chief talk yesterday, that they didn’t have enough to hold her.
Sure enough, Sandra entered the store about fifteen minutes after Cassidy had made her first chai latte of the day. “A large coffee please, cream and sugar” Sandra said, briskly.
“Sure thing, how are you doing?” Cassidy asked.
“As well as can be imagined after losing someone who was like a dear uncle to me and having the police insinuate that I did it. For money of all things! I may never strike it rich in this town, but I stay comfortable without any money off the estate. That is all trusted to keep the building standing and I wouldn’t have it any other way.” She shuddered slightly.
“But who would want to steal those things. Are they worth money?”
“As vintage items, maybe, but to who? No one here could risk owning them now that the cop
s are looking for a murder. No one outside of our little town know who Claire Fontaine is. They would get a small amount on their own though, I imagine.”
“Not enough to be worth risking jail to steal them though?” Cassidy asked, wondering if Sandra had heard about the supposed apparition of her dead aunt the night before.
Just then, the bell jingled at the front door and a tall, thin man in all back entered followed by a young girl of maybe 15 or 16. She, too, was wearing all black with kohl black eyes. Her hair was an assortment of colors, black, blonde, and a streak of pink here or there. The girl went straight to the display of candles and incense and ignored the others.
“Remy,” Sandra said, “What do you want?”
“Just my last paycheck,” he said, sneering a little as he did so. He instantly reminded Cassidy of a snake. It wasn’t just that she knew he had quit without notice the day before, but also that he was simply tall, thin, and moved with a graceful air.
“Fine, I can pay you in cash if you’ll sign a receipt.” Sandra headed back to her office to grab her receipt book and the money.
“So, she already replaced me, huh?” he said, looking over Cassidy in a rather unflattering manner.
“Yeah, as luck would have it I was here when you called yesterday.” Cassidy’s eyes flickered over to the young girl who had come in with him. She was now thumbing through the pages of a book. “Do you need any help?” she called out to the girl who just shook her head, no.
“That’s my daughter, Lissa. She probably knows the shop better than you do.” Remy said, his disdain showing clearly on his face. Cassidy wondered for a moment why he was being hateful. He had been the one to quit, after all. Cassidy just stepped in after there was an opening. Sandra came back out of her office then, saving Cassidy from having to think of a comeback.
The Estate Murder: A Cozy Mystery (The Witch Mysteries) Page 2
