A Spirited Tail #2 Mystic Notch Series
Page 21
Gus frowned at me. "And you felt that Charles' suicide was really a murder?"
"Yep."
She raised her brows. "Well, it turns out you were right. Les told us all about his father's deathbed confession and we found the cuff link from Charles in Les's things. Then Steve gave us the vial you found under the bed. Turns out that was Sal Price's. He'd had to register his prints for a few of the journalistic assignments he'd had so we were able to match the prints on the vial to his. There was powder residue inside."
"The pounce that he used to dry the ink from his fountain pen," I said.
Gus nodded. "Right."
"So, Les Price will go away for murder and Charles' name will finally be cleared." I said as much for the benefit of any ghosts that might be lingering around, as for any of the humans.
"And Jimmy solved three murders, which I would say is a record for a new recruit." Gus beamed at Jimmy who shuffled his feet, his face turning pink.
"I hope that won't affect the museum badly," Ophelia said.
"Are you kidding?" Steve's lips quirked in a not-entirely unattractive—sideways smile. "The news of Charles' suicide now being proved to be murder is going to bring them in in droves. I plan to play it up big-time, too. I'm going to have a whole new display about it."
People had been filing in as we'd been talking, and I decided to head down to the library. I was thrilled it was going to stay in the museum intact, but one thing still bugged me … I'd never found the journals everyone had been looking for.
Bing, Cordelia, Hattie and Josiah were standing in the library and they turned as I entered.
"Willa, you look lovely," Hattie said, causing me to glance down at the silky, cinnamon-colored dress I'd bought especially for the occasion. I rarely wore dresses and a feeling of self-consciousness settled over me.
"Thanks," I answered, taking in the orange and yellow pantsuits the ladies wore—Hattie in orange and Cordelia in yellow with matching tops. "You guys look cheery."
Their eyes lit up.
"Thanks," they twittered.
"So, Willa." Bing raised his bushy, white brows at me. "Did you ever find those journals?"
"Did you say journals?" A voice interrupted from the doorway and we all turned to see Claire in a flowing silver dress.
Bing's eyes narrowed.
"Hello, Claire." His voice did not have friendly overtures.
Claire inclined her head at him. "Bingham. Long time, no see."
The two proceeded to turn their backs on one another and Claire fixed her gaze on me. "So, the journals went to Bing."
Bing spun around. "What? I don't have them … you probably swooped in and charmed them out of Van Dorn."
"Charmed?" Claire's lips took on an amused tilt. "I didn't realize you thought I was charming."
Bing scowled at her. "I don't."
"Anyway, I don't have them." Claire crossed her arms over her chest.
"Well, I don't have them." Bing mimicked her crossing his arms over his chest.
They both turned to look at me.
I shrugged. "I don't have them."
"So, you mean they were never found in all this?" Claire waved her hand to indicate the room.
"Nope. But Steve's still going to continue looking for them." I smiled. "He said he might part with them if the price is right."
"Well, I certainly hope Steve isn’t going to sell them to someone who keeps company with the likes of Idris Bates," Bing scoffed.
"Now, Bing, things are not always as they seem." Claire leaned toward him, her voice low. "As you well know."
Claire pulled me aside, out of earshot of the others. "Willa, I know you have a special gift and you must embrace it. You're one of the few that can help these poor souls."
And then she turned and floated out of the room, leaving a cloud of patchouli in her wake.
"What was that about?" Bing asked.
"Oh, nothing. She just wanted me to let her know if I found the journals."
"Well, I certainly hope you will tell me first."
"Of course, I will."
Cordelia and Hattie came over with a plate of miniature quiches and some napkins and we all took one and started to nibble and chat about Charles Van Dorn. I was into my second miniature quiche when I noticed Hattie and Cordelia had both stopped in mid-chew and were staring at something behind me.
Their cheeks turned pink and their eyes sparkled. What the heck was back there?
I spun around to see Striker, looking like he'd just stepped out of a magazine. Light gray suit, blue tie, fresh haircut and clean-shaven. The look on my face probably matched Hattie's and Cordelia's and I choked on my quiche.
Striker thumped my back. "Whoa, there. You don't have to gulp them down, there's plenty more."
I burned with embarrassment. "Thanks."
"You're welcome. And you look great." My eyes met his and I felt a trill of excitement. Striker always made me feel like a teenager on her first date and it was unnerving.
I picked up the plate of appetizers, partly to distract him and partly because I didn't know how to handle compliments. "Quiche?"
As he took one, my eyes drifted to a large mirror on the wall behind him. A big section was suddenly fogged up. I stared, as the words 'Thank You' appeared written in the fog. Then I saw the faces of Charles Van Dorn and Bruce Norton smiling at me in the mirror. They waved and winked, then turned and started walking away.
I gasped and spun around expecting to see them right behind me, but no one was there.
"Willa, are you okay?" Striker’s face was a mask of concern.
I regained my composure, a smile quirking my lips. A feeling of self-satisfaction flowed through me as I realized that Charles knew we'd found his real killer and solved Lily's murder. And now, he and Bruce were spending the afterlife together. It felt good to know that I'd helped.
I turned to Striker. "Yeah, I'm fine, why do you ask?"
"Oh, for a minute there it looked like you'd seen a ghost."
***
Pandora sat in the tall grass, watching the small house.
"Are you sure about this?" Inkspot asked in a low growl.
"Absolutely," Euphoria purred. "I sensed the special energy as soon as my human came home with the journal."
"And you're sure this is the special journal and that she'll keep it safe?" Sasha asked.
"Yes." Euphoria's yellow eyes glowed in the moonlight. "A visitor came the other day and I sensed my human needed to fulfill her promise to Van Dorn for which he had paid her in kindness and money. She came back with the journal and the tingle in my whiskers tells me this is what we seek."
"A job well done." Otis purred beside Euphoria, and Pandora was amused to notice his eyes slitting to half-moons as he inched his way close to the curly-haired cat.
"But how do we know she will protect it?" Snowball asked.
"Just wait," Euphoria answered.
A few minutes later, the door of the small house cracked open, spilling a wedge of light into the backyard. Pandora and the others crouched down on their haunches, so the tips of their ears would be hidden by the grass, and watched as Gladys Primble hurried into the yard, a metal box in one hand and a notebook in the other.
"Is that the journal?" Scooter, the feral tuxedo cat, whispered.
Inkspot looked down at him fondly. "Yes, can you sense it?"
Pandora had introduced Scooter to Elspeth's clan after Scooter had performed a heroic deed on her behalf. Willa had locked Pandora in the bookstore when she went to Bruce's and when Pandora sensed Willa was in trouble, she couldn’t get out to help her.
Pandora's caterwauling at the back door caught the attention of Scooter, who was rummaging in the dumpster, and the feral cat agreed to rush off to Bruce's and try to help the human. For this, Pandora would be forever grateful.
Inkspot had taken the little tuxedo cat under his wing and was teaching him the ways of the world.
"My whiskers are twitching. Is that what you mean?" S
cooter asked.
"It's a start," Inkspot answered as they watched Gladys dig a small, but deep, hole, then place the journal inside the metal box, put the box in the hole and cover it back up.
"The journal is now safe. No one will find it here and I will be on watch, protecting it," Euphoria said.
"Well, I guess we should call it a day, then." Tigger humped his rear end up, stretching his front legs out long in front of him.
"Wait. Are you sure it's safe there?" Shasha asked.
"Safe as it can be," Inkspot answered. "At least we know where it is and can keep an eye on it. No humans will think to look for it here."
"So neither the good side nor the evil side will have it,” Snowball stated.
"And that’s best for now." Inkspot groomed his shoulder blade, then stood. "It's time to go."
Pandora turned to Scooter. "I wanted to thank you again for looking out for my human for me."
Scooter puffed his fur out proudly. "No problem."
"Hey, what happened to that dog?" Sasha asked. "Is your human keeping him?"
"Thankfully, no. She found him a good home. He was okay, but I wouldn’t want to live with one of those creatures for very long." Pandora ignored the hollow emptiness in her chest. Ranger had been an inconvenience if anything. Sure, he was warm and soft to lie beside, and sometimes he had been good company when she was very, very bored, but she didn't want him in her home.
She was glad he was gone, even if the strange feeling that squeezed her heart when she thought of him seemed to indicate otherwise. No, that feeling couldn’t mean that she missed him. It is probably indigestion, Pandora thought, realizing it might not have been wise to eat that second field mouse—they never settled well with her.
"Now, Scooter," Inkspot was saying. "I hear you are getting a human and I wanted to give you some advice as to how to act. I know you have been in the wild and might be a bit overzealous toward your human at first, but it's important to maintain a cat-like demeanor and act disinterested in everything they do."
"Really?"
"Yes. And if they offer a tasty morsel, sniff it delicately and then turn your nose up before accepting it."
"Okay."
"And when they want to pet you, act aloof. Then, when they are reading or working on their computers, get right in between them and the book or screen and parade back and forth, interrupting their view and acting like you want to be petted."
"Got it."
Pandora chuckled at Inkspots' instructions. As they trotted off, she glanced behind her, noticing that Otis had lingered, probably putting the moves on Euphoria. She couldn’t help but feel sorry for the Selkirk Rex, having to suffer the attentions of the loathsome Calico.
Better her than me, Pandora thought, as her gaze drifted past the two cats to the spot where Gladys had buried the journal. Her stomach tightened with apprehension. The journal was safe for now, but Gladys Primble was an old woman and Pandora had to wonder … who would keep the journals safe after Gladys died?
The End.
***
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Ghostly Paws
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A Note From The Author
Thanks so much for reading my cozy mystery, “A Spirited Tail”. I hope you liked reading it as much as I loved writing it. If you did, and feel inclined to leave a review, I really would appreciate it.
This is book two of the Mystic Notch series. I plan to write many more books with Willa, Pandora and the rest of Mystic Notch. I have several other series that I write, too - you can find out more about them on my website http://www.leighanndobbs.com.
Also, if you like cozy mysteries with ghosts, magic and cats, then you’ll like my book “Dead Wrong” which is book one in the Blackmoore Sisters series. Set in the fictional seaside town of Noquitt Maine, the Blackmoore sisters will take you on a journey of secrets, romance and maybe even a little magic. I have an excerpt from it at the end of this book.
This book has been through many edits with several people and even some software programs, but since nothing is infallible (even the software programs), you might catch a spelling error or mistake and, if you do, I sure would appreciate it if you let me know - you can contact me at lee@leighanndobbs.com.
Oh, and I love to connect with my readers so please do visit me on facebook at http://www.facebook.com/leighanndobbsbooks
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About The Author
Leighann Dobbs has had a passion for reading since she was old enough to hold a book, but she didn't put pen to paper until much later in life. After a twenty year career as a software engineer with a few side trips into selling antiques and making jewelry, she realized you can't make a living reading books, so she tried her hand at writing them and discovered she had a passion for that too! She lives in New Hampshire with her husband Bruce, their trusty Chihuahua mix Mojo and beautiful rescue cat, Kitty.
Find out about her latest books and how to get discounts on them by signing up at:
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More Books By Leighann Dobbs:
Mystic Notch
Cats & Magic Cozy Mystery Series
* * *
Ghostly Paws
Blackmoore Sisters
Cozy Mystery Series
* * *
Dead Wrong
Dead & Buried
Dead Tide
Buried Secrets
Deadly Intentions
-------
Lexy Baker
Cozy Mystery Series
* * *
Lexy Baker Cozy Mystery Series Boxed Set Vol 1 (Books 1-4)
Or buy the books separately:
Killer Cupcakes (Book 1)
Dying For Danish (Book 2)
Murder, Money and Marzipan (Book 3)
3 Bodies and a Biscotti (Book 4)
Brownies, Bodies & Bad Guys (Book 5)
Bake, Battle & Roll (Book 6)
Wedded Blintz (Book 7)
Scones, Skulls & Scams (Book 8)
Ice Cream Murder (Book 9)
-------
Kate Diamond
Adventure/Suspense Series
* * *
Hidden Agemda
-------
Contemporary
Romance
* * *
Sweet Escapes
Reluctant Romance
-------
Dobbs “Fancytales”
Regency Romance Fairytales Series
* * *
Something In Red
Snow White and the Seven Rogues
Dancing On Glass
The Beast of Edenmaine
The Reluctant Princess
***
Excerpt From Dead Wrong:
Morgan Blackmoore tapped her finger lightly on the counter, her mind barely registering the low buzz of voices behind her in the crowded coffee shop as she mentally prioritized the tasks that awaited her back at her own store.
“Here you go, one yerba mate tea and a vanilla latte.” Felicity rang up the purchase, as Morgan dug in the front pocket of her faded denim jeans for some cash which she traded for the two paper cups.
Inhaling the spicy aroma of the tea, she turned to leave, her long, silky black hair swinging behind her. Elbowing her way through the crowd, she headed toward the door. At this time of morning, the coffee shop was filled with locals and Morgan knew almost all of them well enough to exchange a quick greeting or nod.
Suddenly a short, stout figure appeared, blocking her path. Morgan let out a sharp breath, recognizing the figure as Prudence Littl
efield.
Prudence had a long running feud with the Blackmoore’s which dated back to some sort of run-in she’d had with Morgan’s grandmother when they were young girls. As a result, Prudence loved to harass and berate the Blackmoore girls in public. Morgan’s eyes darted around the room, looking for an escape route.
“Just who do you think you are?” Prudence demanded, her hands fisted on her hips, legs spaced shoulder width apart. Morgan noticed she was wearing her usual knee high rubber boots and an orange sunflower scarf.
Morgan’s brow furrowed over her ice blue eyes as she stared at the older woman’s prune like face.
“Excuse me?”
“Don’t you play dumb with me Morgan Blackmoore. What kind of concoction did you give my Ed? He’s been acting plumb crazy.”
Morgan thought back over the previous week’s customers. Ed Littlefield had come into her herbal remedies shop, but she’d be damned if she’d announce to the whole town what he was after.
She narrowed her eyes at Prudence. “That’s between me and Ed.”
Prudence’s cheeks turned crimson. Her nostrils flared. “You know what I think,” she said narrowing her eyes and leaning in toward Morgan, “I think you’re a witch, just like your great-great-great-grandmother!”
Morgan felt an angry heat course through her veins. There was nothing she hated more than being called a witch. She was a Doctor of Pharmacology with a Master Herbalist’s license, not some sort of spell-casting conjurer.
The coffee shop had grown silent. Morgan could feel the crowd staring at her. She leaned forward, looking wrinkled old Prudence Littlefield straight in the eye.
“Well now, I think we know that’s not true,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, “Because if I was a witch, I’d have turned you into a newt long ago.”
Then she pushed her way past the old crone and fled out the coffee shop door.