The Squeaky Clean Skeleton

by R A Muth

  The cattery was a great idea, considering how many felines Elizabeth Sparrows had adopted over the years. I idly wondered if any of her cats were cursed Irishmen in disguise. Opening a new tab on my web browser, I searched for Irish mythology using some of the names and terms I recalled from Rune's story.

  The smell of coffee permeating through my locked bedroom door distracted me from my thoughts. Looking at my reflection in the mirror over my dresser, I sang, "Someone made coffee, and it wasn't me."

  Rune was the perfect roommate. I realized this as I pulled my red corkscrew curls into a messy bun. He was a gentleman, had a sense of humor, and it certainly helped that he was easy on the eyes. Besides, a girl could get used to having someone prepare her coffee every morning. Because everyone else saw him in his cat form, I wouldn't ever have to deal with the town gossips spreading rumors about us.

  When I could no longer ignore my need for caffeine, I dragged myself from the bed and, iPad in hand, ventured through the house toward the kitchen. "Rune? Good morning!"

  "Top of the morning, lass. I trust ye slept well?" Rune turned from the stove, which held a pan of eggs scrambled with cheese and bacon.

  "I did, thank you. I woke up a while ago but sat in bed and did some research on my iPad."

  "Do ye have an illness that affects yer vision?"

  "What? No! I meant my tablet. It's called an iPad, and my phone is an iPhone. It's just a brand name, like Jameson whiskey."

  "Ah, I understand." Rune's smile returned along with the dimple, which drew attention to the stubble covering the lower half of his face.

  I needed to stop before drool slipped from the corner of my mouth. If I didn't help solve this murder, then I'd never have the money to pay my bills. And if I didn't pay my bills, then who knew when Gavin would take the boot off my car. After my mental scolding, I smiled and thanked Rune for the coffee.

  "It seems important to ye." He handed me a mug, which I gratefully accepted.

  Wrapping my fingers around the warm ceramic cup, I took a sip of the creamy brew and gave a little moan. In my mind, I imagined harp music drifting from heaven to accompany the deliciousness seeping into my taste buds. "What did you do to this? It tastes amazing."

  "I goggled coffee recipes."

  I'd have corrected him, but I was too busy enjoying whatever magic spell he had cast on the contents of my coffee pot. "Aren't you going to drink yours?"

  "I had one. That's for Hazel, the other lass."

  "But she's not due to arrive until, whoa." I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, but Rune transformed from human to cat right in front of me.

  Chapter 32

  The metamorphosis was lightning-quick. One second he was a hot Irishman who stirred things in me that I hadn't ever had for my late husband, and in the next, he was an adorable furball.

  Hazel breezed through my kitchen door without knocking first and closed it behind her while dropping her umbrella into the empty sink to dry out. Rune gracefully leaped onto the counter, and his purring filled the room.

  "Wow! Your kitchen has never been cleaner."

  "I can't take the credit. It was Rune." In my tired state, I had blurted the only secret I had ever kept from my best friend.

  Hazel slapped her thigh and roared with laughter. "So, now your cat cleans the house?"

  "No, no." I laughed along with her before amending, "I meant he's the inspiration. I wouldn't want him getting into something that would hurt him."

  If I didn't know better, I'd think Rune's feline self was chuckling at my expense. He made a little wheezing sound, which caught Hazel's attention. "Is he okay?"

  "Yeah, it's probably a hairball. There's coffee for you on the counter."

  "Oh, you're an angel!" Grabbing the mug, she gave Rune a quick cuddle before making herself at home at my kitchen table.

  I took the seat next to her. "So, did you get my emails?"

  "Yes, but I haven't had time to go through them. Sven's off on another trip, but he didn't have to leave so early for this one. We spent the morning making up for our lost alone time--if you get my meaning." Hazel made kissy faces in the air.

  "Mhmm. I understand what you're getting at, and don't need any of the gory details, thank you very much." And as a widow on the train to become the town's resident crazy cat lady, the last thing I wanted to discuss was my best friend's sex life. Changing the topic, I suggested, "But let's talk about something less gross, like decomposing bodies."

  "You're terrible," Hazel said with a laugh.

  "Yes, but it's why you love me." I made kissy faces of my own before gulping more of the delicious coffee.

  "Before I forget, Gavin called me this morning. That was his voice we heard. Marci was nosing around her aunt's mansion. She said she was looking for an earring she lost during the séance."

  "Likely story. Was Mrs. Livingston's niece even wearing earrings that night?"

  "I'm not sure any of us looked that closely at her ears. Gavin gave her a 'harsh warning.'" Hazel raised her fingers and put air quotes around the last two words.

  "Better her than me. So, check this out," I changed the topic. Over the next few minutes, I recapped what I had found the night before and what I theorized about what it could mean.

  Hazel's eyes widened a little more with each new fact and suspicion until I was sure they would pop out of her head.

  "I don't believe it, even though the clues point right to it. Why would Asher and Thom want to kill Christine Livingston, though?"

  "I guess they were so desperate to get their hands on her beach plum bushes that they killed her so they could go through the heirs to get their hands on them. The article Mandy Leigh wrote about the brewery's greenhouse project says the grant Asher and Thom applied for is worth half a million dollars."

  "Holy beach plums! Are you kidding me?" Hazel's mouth dropped open.

  "I'm as serious as a certain squeaky-clean skeleton."

  "There's only one option."

  "We have to go investigate the barn."

  "Tori? Are you kidding?"

  "No, I'm not. What did you have in mind?"

  "I was going to say we should call my brother."

  "No. Gavin would never take us seriously, and Officer Sterling is too new to town." I exhaled with enough force to puff out my cheeks a little. "It has to be us. We have to go out there."

  "It's supposed to rain all day."

  "We can use the excuse that we're cataloging the contents of the shed. Then, when nobody's around, we can sneak into the barn, and they won't suspect a thing."

  "And what do you expect to find in the barn?"

  "We need a clearer picture of those labels, for one thing." A crash sounded from the living room, and I jumped out of my seat and raced to find the cause.

  The flowerpot from Mrs. Sparrows lay shattered on the floor. Rune was the picture of innocence from his place in the recliner.

  "Rune, did you do this?" I asked. With perfect feline disdain for humankind, he ignored me, raised one paw, and began grooming it with his tongue. “I knew I should have left it on the porch.”

  Hazel appeared at my side with a broom and dustpan. "You hold, I'll sweep."

  Taking the dustpan from her, I lowered into a squat. As Hazel swept, I held the dustpan against the floor until it contained the dirt, plant, and broken pieces.

  After I had thrown the mess in the trash bin under the sink and Hazel returned the broom and dustpan to where I kept them, we returned to the kitchen table, but both remained standing. Taking another swill of coffee, I made a mental note to express my gratitude to my supernatural roomie later, when we were alone again.

  "So, we're going to investigate the barn at the Blue Bear Brewery?"

  I gave a solemn nod. "We are."

  "And if we get caught, Tori? What then?"

  "We tell them we were looking for a tarp, or a pop-up canopy, or something to help prevent the items inside the shed from getting wet as we sort them, since we m
ay have to move a few pieces outside."

  Hazel sighed. "Okay, I guess that will work. Let's go so we can get this over with and come back here."

  "This is going to work out." I stuffed my feet into my Wellingtons and grabbed my umbrella.

  Hazel sighed. "I hope you're right. Grab your iPad. We need to look legitimate."

  Hazel pulled the minivan into the same space she used on our previous visits to the brewery. The rain had slowed to a drizzly mist, and the temperature dropped, creating the perfect environment for a wispy layer of fog hovering over the ground.

  "It's a good thing the brewery doesn't open until lunchtime." Hazel grabbed her umbrella from the captain's chair behind her seat before adding, "Even though they told us to come and go as we please, it gives us less chance of being noticed."

  As I gripped the van's door handle, I sighed. "Yes, I agree and, speaking of time, we're wasting it sitting here talking. Let's get this over with so we can get back home."

  Hazel and I left the van and sprinted toward the sheds. I stayed close to her side but threw glances over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching.

  "Cut it out, Tori. You'll cause suspicion if you keep that up. The quicker we get in the barn and out again, the quicker we can figure this out so life can get back to normal."

  I have a cat who is half Irishman. Life will never be normal again, is what I wished I could say. Instead, I stammered out, "Yeah, okay."

  The shed Asher showed us during our tour sat locked tight as a bank vault. We spent the next ten minutes making a show of opening the shed next to it and looking over the contents. Only when we were sure the coast was clear did we start moving again.

  Dark clouds gathered overhead, and a brisk wind rustled the branches of the stone fruit trees lining the rear of the property. The sound reminded me of a nest of vipers warning before a deadly strike. Was this the universe telling us to turn back? Even as alarm bells rang in my mind, I continued toward the barn.

  Chapter 33

  By the time Hazel and I reached the door, my knees shook. I turned toward my friend and asked, "Are we sure about this?"

  Her eyes widened. "Don't tell me you're having second thoughts. We've come all this way. What if we discover something? When I spoke with Gavin last night, he was frustrated at the lack of clues. Can you imagine how much fun it would be if we solved this case before him?"

  "No, I'm not having second thoughts," I insisted, hearing a quaver in my voice.

  Hazel's words soon helped me gain confidence, though. Although her reasoning came from a place of sibling rivalry, having grown up in the same small town, I could relate. It didn't matter that Gavin was a grown adult who served on the tiny police force in Cooper's Cove. No matter how many years passed, he was the same childhood bully who stuffed nerds in their lockers. Gavin's delusion that we would someday be a couple didn't help improve my opinion of him. Solving a crime before he did would make up for years--heck, decades of the angst he had caused us. Tightening my grip on the door handle, I straightened my shoulders. "You're right. Let's do this."

  The door creaked in protest as I slid it, and I winced, stopping when the opening was wide enough for Hazel and me to pass through. The scant bit of light coming through the open door did little to eliminate shadows creeping from the corners of the massive interior. The confidence I had a moment ago promptly left.

  Although it wasn't quite mid-morning, the gloominess of the barn had me on high alert for crepuscular creatures waiting to execute a jump scare. Anything, or anyone, could be hiding among the industrial orchard equipment. The silence in the barn grew until my breathing sounded as loud as a freight train barreling down a set of tracks.

  "No one's here," Hazel whispered behind me.

  "I hope you're right."

  Letting Hazel take the lead, I followed her to a set of wooden stairs leading to the loft. We crept along in tandem, our footsteps almost silent until the wood protested with a loud creak halfway up. Freezing in place, we listened for movement. The inside of the barn was calm, so we continued our exploration.

  For all the creepy shadows lurking about on the ground floor of the barn, the loft was brighter due in part to the natural light pouring in through half a dozen skylights installed in the ceiling. Hazel and I gaped as we observed the operation.

  Shelves lining the perimeter of the room held an assortment of books, plants, and specimen jars filled with who-knows-what. A healthy garden, similar to what one might see on a rooftop in a larger city, encompassed the center of the massive space while on either side, a steel worktable sat bolted to the floor.

  But it was what one of the tables held that caught my attention--white plastic jugs, like the ones in both the shed and Christine Livingston's bedroom. "Hazel, look," I hissed while using my index finger to point. In my other hand, I held out my phone.

  Hazel whispered, "What are you doing?"

  "Getting proof of the evidence. I'm sure whatever was in the jugs was dumped over Mrs. Livingston." The only other noise in the room was my phone's shutter sound, which happened each time I tapped the camera icon to take another photo.

  "I hope they didn't do it while Mrs. Livingston was still alive," Hazel punctuated her words with a squeak.

  I snapped off three more photos, this time zooming in on the jugs to get a clear picture of the label so I could research it later. "What's wrong? Did you see a mouse?"

  "I wish you hadn't done that," a voice said from behind me, and it wasn't Hazel.

  Pivoting to face the opposite direction, I stood to face the newcomer. My lower jaw hung open as I recognized the silhouette of Elizabeth Sparrows, and in her arms was the largest orange tomcat I'd ever seen.

  "Mrs. Sparrows. Hi. We were hoping to find a tarp or a canopy to help keep the items in the shed dry as we sorted them," Hazel recited the excuse we had planned.

  The older woman rolled her eyes. "I was born at night, but not last night. Get over there, under that skylight, where I can keep an eye on you."

  When Hazel and I failed to move as directed, Elizabeth barked, "I said to move!" She gently let the cat on the floor, which revealed the gun she was holding in one hand.

  I grabbed Hazel's arm and pulled her with me until we stood directly under the skylight as the cat disappeared down the stairs. I tried reasoning, "Mrs. Sparrows, we honestly were looking for a tarp. Scout's honor." I stuck my index and middle fingers into the air in what I hoped was some believable hand signal.

  "Liar!" the woman screeched. "What part of 'your work is limited to the sheds' didn't you understand?"

  Without looking at my phone, I slid my thumb over the screen and hoped I was turning on Ringo's voice memo app to record our conversation.

  "We're not lying," Hazel protested.

  "Hazel's right. We're not lying!"

  "Do you think I’m stupid? I put a listening device in the plant I sent home with you. That is, until your cat thwarted my plans. Tell me why you’re really here, right now!"

  "Fine! We're trying to find out what happened to Mrs. Livingston so they can close the investigation, and we can finish the job there and collect our pay," I tried to explain, stammering over every fourth or fifth word, all attempts to sound confident falling flat.

  "All you care about is money. You're no better than that selfish Christine. She was going to sell the beach plum plants to a scientist over in Martha's Vineyard. Can you believe it? Those plants originated in Cooper's Cove, and that's where they should stay!"

  "We don't only care about money, though. We're looking for, uh, closure. Right, Hazel?" I gulped and stared at my friend, mentally urging her to agree with me.

  After what seemed like forever, but in reality, was less than a minute, Hazel fumbled for words but managed to get out, "Uh, yeah, that's it. Closure."

  Waving the gun in the air, Elizabeth Sparrows screamed, "I have had enough of people lying to me. Thom and Asher went to Christine behind my back when their grant fell through, and then I had to find a way to ge
t funding. No more lies!"

  “We’re not lying,” I insisted.

  Hazel added, "And there's no need to shoot anyone! Isn't it bad enough that someone in your family has already killed Mrs. Livingston?"

  A silence fell over the barn and I was sure we were as good as dead, but nothing could have prepared us for what Elizabeth Sparrows said next.

  Chapter 34

  "You stupid little twit. How dumb are you? I did it! I killed Christine Livingston, and I did it for me! Asher's never going to make this brewery amount to anything, not with Thom managing their finances. That's why they lost the grant and begged Christine to become a partner. I'm working on a hybrid beach plum bush infused with kitty litter. Once it's ready, I'll ship the fruit to my cousin, Joanna, in New York City."

  "What will your cousin do with plants infested with common household kitty litter?" Hazel's eyes were as big as saucers.

  "You truly are stupid, aren't you?" Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "Kitty litter is the hot new drug. All the young people are taking it, and in New York City, they'll pay top dollar to get it in whatever form that's available."

  A shadow at the rear of the loft caught my eye, but I kept my eyes on Elizabeth Sparrows. If I couldn't get the gun from her, I could at least look for a distraction.

  "Nobody told me I was getting two dummies for the price of one. I can't believe you aren't familiar with Joanna Giamonte. Don't you read the news? She's famous." Elizabeth Sparrows took on a smug expression.

  "Don't you mean more like infamous?" I blurted. If I were going down at the hands of this crazy cat lady, I wouldn't make it easy for her. Through clenched teeth, I hissed at Hazel, "She means Joanna "Horseface" Giamonte, the mobster!"