A Spirited Tail #2 Mystic Notch Series

by Leighann Dobbs

  "Good question. I don't know, but more than one person really wants them."

  "Yeah, we better be careful with those. Do you think this Bruce guy was after the journals?"

  "That’s a good question." I hadn’t considered that angle. Bruce knew Charles and hung around here back in the day. Maybe he had come here that night for the journals … but why wait all this time?

  Steve's eyes turned sad. "I wonder what happened to the dog?"

  "Ranger? I have him temporarily. I couldn’t let him go to the pound and I was thinking I would see if any of Bruce's relatives wanted him, but Bruce didn't have any." I shrugged. "So, I guess I’ll keep him until I find the right master."

  "Oh? He was a real nice dog. I'm glad that you have him. I would have hated to see him go to the pound."

  We proceeded down the hall toward the library and office. About halfway down, Steve slowed his step. He put his hand out to stop me. "Wait here. Something's not right."

  I felt a prickle of adrenaline as Steve took off down the hall. I didn't notice anything … maybe Charles was here and Steve was picking up on it.

  "Crap!" Steve yelled from the office and I rushed toward it, skidding around the corner to see Steve standing in front of a large, mahogany cabinet.

  "What happened?" I asked.

  He stepped aside, revealing a thin crack in the cabinet.

  "What's that?" I asked.

  "Apparently, this cabinet had a secret compartment." He motioned me over. "Check it out."

  I walked closer to inspect the cabinet. It was ingenious, really. There was a hidden compartment on the side, which was made to look like part of the molding. It now hung open, the small interior compartment dark and empty.

  "Do you think someone came in and opened this?" I remembered Charles didn't like people going through his things and wondered if maybe the ghost had been playing a joke on Steve.

  "It sure looks that way." Steve glanced around the room, then went out into the hall. I could hear him checking the windows and doors. "There's no sign of a break-in."

  Charles appeared in the corner and I raised my brows at him then pointed to the cabinet. He shrugged and shook his head. I guess it wasn't him.

  Had someone been in here, or did the cabinet pop open on its own? I glanced out the window and did a double-take. Was that a pair of cat ears peeking up from the tall grass? It was just getting dark and I squinted my eyes to get a better look, but when I looked again all I saw was grass. Great, now I was seeing cats everywhere I went along with Charles' annoying ghost.

  "Maybe the door just cracked open, you know, with the heat and all?" I suggested.

  Steve came back and stood in front of the cabinet, rubbing his hand over his face. He looked down, his eyes narrowed, and then he bent down and picked something up.

  "I don't think so. I'm pretty sure someone was in here and it looks like they left this clue."

  He held out his palm and I gaped at what was in there—a clump of curly orange cat fur.

  ***

  Steve called the police and Gus, Striker and Jimmy showed up. We met them in the foyer and none of them looked too happy to see me there.

  "Willa, why am I not surprised to see you here?" Gus asked.

  "Well, I am cataloguing the library, so I guess that would be why…"

  I glanced uneasily at Striker. I hadn't heard from him since the other night when he'd been over to my house. Was he mad at me? I couldn’t tell. Of course, we didn't actually have that "call each other all the time" kind of relationship, so it was probably just that he was busy with the case. Come to think of it, I was kind of busy myself.

  As if reading my mind, Striker winked at me and I berated myself for feeling a flitter in my stomach.

  Jimmy stood off to the side, shoulders slumped, his face red and blotchy. My stomach twisted at his dejected look—it was all my fault. I'd given him the tip about the pen and now it looked like he'd screwed up.

  Gus got down to business. "So, where did they break in?"

  Steve scratched his head. "See, that’s the thing. It doesn’t seem like they exactly did break in."

  Gus' left brow shot up and she looked from Steve to me. "You called about a break-in, right?"

  "Yeah, I’ll show you," Steve said.

  We all clomped down the hall to the office and Steve pointed out the hidden drawer.

  "So, let me get this straight. No signs of entry. Nothing is stolen that you know of, and all you've got is an open drawer?"

  "And this." Steve held up the cat fur.

  "Hair?"

  "Well, actually I think it’s cat fur." Steve held the clump up in front of his face. "Looks like a rare breed, the Selkirk Rex."

  "Are you guys serious?" Gus whirled on me. "You had something to do with this, didn't you?"

  I held my hand up in front of me. "I … no. I mean, I was just here to catalog the books."

  "I hope you guys aren't wasting the taxpayers’ money on some kind of wild goose chase."

  Or wild ghost chase.

  Steve held up his hands. "No, I swear. I know someone broke in."

  Gus rolled her eyes. "And what do you want me to report? A break-in where nothing was stolen? That some cat hair was left here? Or maybe you want me to think a cat broke in?"

  "Well, now that you mention it, I guess it does sound kind of lame."

  She gave him a stern look and nodded, then turned her glare on me. "And you … can you at least try to stay out of trouble?"

  Then she spun around and marched out of the room, her blonde ponytail swinging like a metronome behind her.

  Striker shrugged, winked at me again, and followed her.

  Jimmy grimaced and trudged out behind them, leaving Steve and me staring at the empty drawer and wondering if the thief had gotten what they wanted and what, exactly, that was.

  ***

  "Something’s wrong." Pandora peered through the blades of grass at the Van Dorn mansion, her heart sinking. "I don't feel it anymore."

  "It can't be," Inkspot growled, his green eyes glowing in the moonlight. "We must secure it."

  "Well, I'm telling you someone else must have gotten to it."

  "She speaks true," Snowball hissed. "There is no secret in there. It’s gone."

  They sat stock still in the grass, staring at the lights coming from the house. A face appeared in the window.

  Willa!

  "Duck!" Otis hissed, but with their cat instincts they didn't need the warning, they had already crouched down so as not to be seen.

  Pandora was thankful she hadn't brought Ranger this time. He wanted to come, but Willa had closed the cellar door and the dog couldn’t fit out the cat door, though he did try.

  Pandora's lips quirked into a smile at the memory of him trying to wriggle through the small door and getting stuck halfway. She hoped he'd been able to pull his front half back in—the last she'd seen of him, it had been sticking out the door and he'd been barking at her to come back and help him.

  It was a good thing he hadn't fit. He did not have their feline reflexes and would surely have given them away.

  "So now what?" Kelley batted at a firefly blinking in front of them.

  Everyone turned to Inkspot.

  "We must find the journal and see it is protected from the evil ones," Inkspot growled.

  Otis chuffed. "I told you it would do no good to trust the modern cats, with their new ways and sensitive 'feelings'. This has gotten us nowhere. We don't even have any proof that the item we seek was ever in there."

  Pandora felt the hairs on the back of her spine stand on end and she humped her back, getting ready to lash out at the disagreeable Otis, but Sasha stopped her with a thrust of her paw.

  "We must all get along," Sasha reminded her. “You two remember we have a higher purpose."

  "Yes." Inkspot turned. "We must work together, Otis and Pandora, you two especially … you are more alike than you think."

  Pandora looked at Otis out of corner of her e
ye.

  Alike?

  She didn't think so. He is a pompous jerk and I certainly wasn't anything like him, she thought as she pounced on a white moth, stilling its flutter. She lifted her paw and the moth flapped its wings and flew up in front of her. They watched it land on a tall blade of grass.

  "Come," Inkspot said as he started back toward Elspeth's house. "We must meet with Truffles and see if she found anything out from her contact before we make an alternate plan."

  Chapter Seventeen

  Despite all the questions circling in my mind, I'd made good headway with Charles' books while his ghost watched me from the leather sofa in front of the stone fireplace. Every once in a while, he would blurt out missives such as 'be careful', 'don't rip the pages' and other annoying advice that I could have done without.

  Charles' unwanted attention was unsettling, but we got into a rhythm and I was able to ignore him. He evaded my questions about Gladys and pretended like he didn't know anything about someone breaking in earlier in the day, claiming he must have been 'out' talking to me at my shop at the time.

  It was well past suppertime when I packed up my stuff and said goodbye to Steve. I had to admit, he was starting to grow on me, especially since I'd seen him at the cattery, but I still had my suspicions. He could still be involved. Maybe he and Gladys were in on it together. Though he had seemed upset that Charles left Gladys money, but that could have been a cover. His alibi of being on the airplane was good, but he and Gladys could have set things up beforehand so as to have the perfect alibi—Gladys murders Bruce and makes the clues lead to Steve who has the perfect alibi in order to throw the police off and confuse them. But why? And how would Steve and Gladys have known each other in the first place? Maybe there was a Facebook group for this sort of thing just like there was for feral cats.

  The whole thing about Steve drawing on Bruce’s forehead was weird. Why would he do that and incriminate himself? Then again, maybe the whole plan was for the police to pull him in, so they could discover his airtight alibi. But had Ranger really stood by and let that happen? I had one way I could find out - bring Ranger over and see his reaction. I felt sure if Steve were the one who killed Bruce, Ranger would react negatively to him.

  I drove home with my head spinning. I felt certain that Bruce's murder was related to both Charles’ and Lily's murders, but I needed more information on their deaths before I could figure out how or why.

  How could I get that information?

  And then the perfect solution popped into my head. Jimmy. He'd have access to those old files and it would kill two birds with one stone. I felt responsible for the screw-up with Steve and if I could help Jimmy redeem himself by solving the case, plus the fifty-year-old murders, then all the better. I decided to tell him everything I knew.

  Rummaging in my hobo bag, I pulled out my cell, then turned it on. I hated the darn thing interrupting me all the time, so I usually kept it off, but I had to admit, it sure was convenient when I wanted to interrupt someone else.

  The phone lit up with a text from Striker: 'Dinner Friday?' I felt foolishly giddy and replied 'yes', and then I looked up Jimmy, who I'd entered into my contacts earlier and called him.

  "Hi, Willa. What’s up?" I cringed at the uncertainty in his voice. I hoped he still trusted me and wanted to investigate the case with my advice.

  "I have some ideas I want to run by you regarding the case," I ventured.

  "Oh ... I don't know if that’s a good idea."

  "Why don't you just hear me out? Meet me at my place in fifteen." My stomach grumbled loudly. "And pick up pizza on the way—I’ll pay."

  Five minutes later, I pulled into my driveway to see the cat door slightly askew. Apparently, Pandora had been out. Was it her I had seen at Van Dorn’s? No, that couldn’t be possible. His house was miles away and besides, what would she be doing there?

  I pushed the cat door back in. It did get stuck open sometimes and I didn't want to leave it that way or mice would come in by the droves. As I adjusted the door, I saw some golden fur on it. Had Ranger tried to follow Pandora out? I smiled at the image of the large Golden Retriever trying to fit through the small door.

  Inside, Pandora blinked at me innocently from atop the kitchen table.

  "Hi, guys." The cat didn't make a move, but Ranger hoisted himself up from the floor and walked over to sniff at my pants.

  I fed them, and just as I finished, Jimmy arrived, filling the house with the smell of dough and tomato sauce.

  I slid some paper plates on the table and pried the lid open, my mouth watering at the cheesy slices topped with green pepper and onion.

  I gestured to the table and Jimmy pulled out a chair and sat.

  "Something to drink?" I asked.

  "If you have some hot water, that would be great." He pulled a tea bag out of his pocket, then noticing my frown, added, "Pepper gave me these tea bags and it's really tasty. I have to admit, I'm almost addicted to it."

  "I’ll bet," I mumbled, shoving a mug of water in the microwave for him and getting myself a tall glass with ice.

  Ranger ambled over to the table, his eyes glued to the pizza.

  "Can I give him some?" Jimmy asked.

  "Sure."

  Jimmy broke off a tiny piece of crust and fed it to the dog, who inhaled it. Pandora craned her neck to see what was going on, then turned her back on us, flicking her kinked tail in disdain. She didn't like pizza.

  "So, what did you want to talk about?" Jimmy folded his pizza and shoved the end in his mouth.

  "Well, I feel kind of bad about the whole pen incident with Steve … it was a good lead, though."

  "It was. It's just a fluke thing that he wrote on the guy after he was dead." Jimmy grimaced. "I mean, who would have expected that?"

  I nodded. "Right. So, to make up for it, I wanted to share some of my ideas with you. Maybe they'll help solve the case for real."

  "Why me?"

  I shrugged. "Gus and Striker don't take me seriously."

  "Really?"

  "Yep."

  "Join the club." He raised his teacup and we clinked rims.

  I studied Jimmy while I figured out where to start. I didn't want to tell him about the love letters, and certainly couldn’t tell him I talked to ghosts. I decided to play up my journalistic intuition.

  "I have a feeling that Bruce's murder has something to do with the deaths that happened at Van Dorn’s fifty years ago and I think I have a likely suspect."

  His gray eyes sparked with interest. "Really?"

  I nodded and wiped the grease off my mouth. "Apparently, Charles Van Dorn left a sum of money to his housekeeper."

  Jimmy's left brow ticked up as he bit into another piece. "Why?"

  "I'm not sure, but I think they might have been having an affair," I said.

  Jimmy's eyebrow ticked higher.

  "Or, there was some sort of love triangle with Charles, Lily and Gladys," I added.

  "And you think she killed them?" Jimmy asked. "I thought Charles committed suicide."

  "Yeah, that’s what everyone thought." A misty form in the corner of the kitchen caught my attention and I glanced over to see Charles shaking his head. I guessed he was making good on his threat to stick to me like glue until I found his killer. I hoped he wasn't planning to sleep over. There was nothing worse than waking up to a cold, wet ghost face staring at you.

  "So, you think Gladys killed Lily and then faked Charles' suicide because she was jealous?"

  "That’s the thing. She might have killed Lily because she was jealous, but Charles’ murder was premeditated and made to look like a suicide. The pre-meditation doesn’t fit with a crime of passion."

  Jimmy scrunched his face up. "But what makes you so sure Charles’ death wasn't suicide?"

  "Just intuition. Anyway, Gladys might have been jealous or maybe she knew Charles was leaving her money and wanted it then instead of waiting thirty years for him to die."

  Jimmy looked up at the ceiling, che
wing his pizza thoughtfully. "And you think she also killed Bruce?"

  "Maybe."

  "But she'd be seventy years old!"

  "Trust me. She's more than capable of doing the deed."

  "But why would she kill Bruce?"

  "I think she might have gone to the house to get something and Bruce just happened to be there, so she had no choice. Also, Bruce might have suspected her, too. You said he had those photos at his house. Maybe he had an investigation of his own and came to the same conclusion I did and confronted her."

  "Hmm … maybe."

  "When I told Gladys the house was being sold, she seemed really surprised. Maybe she was just acting, or maybe she really didn't know the house was being sold.

  If there was something in that house she wanted—maybe something that incriminated her in the murders—and she went there and ran into Bruce and had to kill him, she might not want to go back too soon afterward. Especially if she really didn't know it was being sold, because she'd figured she could go back any time. But once I told her Steve was selling everything off, she realized she had to get in there to get what she needed."

  Jimmy looked at me doubtfully. "That seems kind of farfetched and I don't think Gus was convinced there really was a break-in."

  "I know she wasn't, but that piece of fur …"

  "What about it?" Jimmy slurped his tea and I wondered about those herbs Pepper had put in. Hopefully it wouldn’t backfire and make him less confident like some of her teas had done in the past. Then he'd never want to help me!

  "It was from a rare cat, one that Gladys just happens to own."

  "But why would she need to break in to Van Dorn's?"

  "That’s a good question." I didn't feel like it was my place to tell him about the love letters—that was Charles' secret to share. "I think there may have been some sort of evidence of their affair she wanted to keep buried. She probably had a key to the house and that’s why there was no evidence of a break-in."

  "But, why after all these years? I mean who would care now if she had an affair with Van Dorn fifty years ago?"