Whisker of a Doubt (Mystic Notch Cozy Mystery Series Book 6)

by Leighann Dobbs

  “Barney did say that Desmond was in his shop, trying to sell him some of Albert’s things right after the death.” I scrunched my nose. “He said it was a stamp collection, though.”

  “Hmm.” Pepper narrowed her eyes. “Or maybe Barney only thought it was a stamp collection. The letter would have had a stamp on it. Maybe Desmond only thought the stamp was valuable and not the letter inside. Then again, perhaps it was someone else. Who knows how many people Albert might have mentioned the letter to?”

  “Right.” I set my cold coffee aside and pushed to my feet, wincing slightly at the ache in my leg. Pepper had been correct, though. The dandelion tea had helped. “I guess our next step is determining just who would know what was in the letter. Seems it’d be people who’d have ancestral lines dating back to old Hester’s time. The only family I can think of like that in Mystic Notch is the Bateses.”

  Pepper scoffed. “Not just them. You’d be surprised how many townsfolk can trace their lineage back to one of Mystic Notch’s original settlers—good or bad.”

  “So the town is full of suspects?”

  “Not necessarily. The only person who would be interested enough to kill would be someone that wants harm to come to Mystic Notch.”

  “Oh well, that certainly narrows it down, then,” I said. “We just have to find someone with malicious intent. I already have a few suspects in mind.”

  14

  I was putting away books later that afternoon and feeling pretty good about myself and the store’s future. I’d just sold a leather-bound edition of Robert Frost’s poems worth a small fortune. It wasn’t a huge amount, but it padded my coffers nicely. Things were looking up.

  And speaking of looking up, I glanced at the clock on the wall behind the register for the umpteenth time. Once two o’clock rolled around, I planned to take a late lunch and head over to the church to talk with Emma Potts. She was the church secretary and had been working the day Albert Schumer was killed. Given that the church was right across the street from the back door of the post office, I’d hoped she might have seen something or someone suspicious on her way into work that day. Possibly even Felicity Bates, Desmond Lacroix, or Nathan Anderson. Those were my top suspects thus far.

  Muffled conversation drew my attention to the far corner of the room, where my two resident spirits—Robert and Franklin—were deep in discussion. After making sure Hanna was busy helping customers and completely unaware of our ghostly visitors, I headed over to the poetry section, where the two undead men were conversing.

  As I neared them, I couldn’t help biting back a smile. Seemed I wasn’t the only one as pleased as punch about my early sale.

  “See?” Robert said, giving Franklin a superior look. “People still like to read my works.”

  Franklin snorted. “They still love to read my biographies too. But I don’t think Willa promotes them enough.” He waved a hand toward the section where his books were housed. “How can anyone be expected to find them when they’re all pushed in like that so no one can see the titles?”

  I cleared my throat and raised a brow as I tidied the aforementioned section. “A thank you for carrying both of your out-of-print books would be nice.”

  The two men exchanged a long-suffering look before changing the subject, ignoring my suggestion entirely. Typical.

  Robert sighed. “I heard you finally spoke with Albert. The disturbances on the other side have lessened.”

  “Yes.” Franklin leaned a ghostly shoulder against the bookshelf beside him. It sank right through, causing him to stumble slightly and right himself. Expression perturbed, he narrowed his gaze on me. “I also heard that your young man talked to Albert as well. About time you two connected.”

  At first, I thought they were talking about me connecting with Albert, but then Franklin’s words finally registered. I halted with a book halfway into its slot. “Wait a minute. You knew about Striker’s gift? That means each time he came in here, he could see you too, then.”

  “No.” Robert held up his hands against my accusing tone. “It doesn’t work like that. Yes, we knew about your Striker’s abilities, but the only person who can see the two of us in here is you, Willa.”

  “Hmm.” I continued shoving books onto the shelf, feeling slightly off-kilter now. Who else knew Striker and I could see ghosts?

  Robert and Franklin stood watching me as I worked, both looking contrite. Finally, I took pity on them and ended the awkward silence stretching between us. “Albert was quite forthcoming with information. And I’m glad for you both that the disturbances are growing less annoying now that we’re investigating what happened. But I do wish Albert remembered the identity of his killer. It would make things so much easier.”

  “Unfortunately, they never do.” Robert shook his head. “It’s called death amnesia. The memories are too painful to remember at that exact moment, so most ghosts block them out.”

  “Huh.” I finished putting the stack of books in my arms away then peered around the corner of the bookcase to make sure Hanna was still occupied before saying, “Josiah said this morning that Ruthie scared off Albert’s killer, but she swears she didn’t see who it was. That’s why I’m going over to First Hope Church now. I want to talk to Emma Potts and Pastor Foley too, if he’s there. It’s possible they might have seen something on their way in that morning.”

  “An excellent idea,” Franklin said. “Perhaps you could—”

  Whatever he’d been about to suggest was cut off by my sister storming into the store. I battled the urge to hide in the corner and instead squared my shoulders. Putting off the inevitable wouldn’t make it go away. After a quick glance at my two ghost friends, I stepped out from between the bookshelves to face Gus head on. “Good afternoon, sis. What can I do for you?”

  “You can start off by telling me what in the world you said to Striker.”

  I did my best to keep the guilt from my face and failed miserably, if my sister’s narrowed gaze was any indication. Aware that there were customers in the store and that we were drawing their attention, I guided Gus over to a secluded corner before continuing. “Why? What’s wrong with him?”

  “Nothing, except he used to be normal. Now he can’t stop talking about strange suspects that never crossed our rosters before and weird alibis.” Gus huffed. “Not to mention some old letter. And stop bothering Barney Delaney. He was in my office this morning, reading me the riot act and threatening to file charges against you for harassment. He had nothing to do with this, Willa, okay? I already talked to him, and he was at the diner, having breakfast during the time Albert was killed. Just like he is every morning. There are witnesses, and Myrna showed me his time-stamped receipt for 5:57 a.m. and everything. Got it?”

  Whenever my sister got into a tizzy like this, it was best to just go along with it until she calmed down. So I nodded and gave her my best placating smile. “Fine. No more Barney Delaney. I promise. Though you might want to check into Desmond Lacroix and Nathan Anderson. Were you aware they both tried to sell Albert’s stamp collection to Barney on the day Albert died?”

  Gus’s expression turned mulish, and my hopes sank. Stubbornness was a family trait with us Chances, but my sister took it to a whole new level. She didn’t like me butting in to her investigations. I got that. But that didn’t make my information any less valid.

  “Listen, Willa. I don’t like this. I’ve made it abundantly clear you can’t go poking around my cases. I know how to do my job, and I don’t need you or anyone else telling me what’s what.”

  Before I could say anything else, Gus blustered out of the shop, leaving me and my customers to stare after her. Luckily, my phone buzzed, giving me an excuse to escape behind the counter and avoid any more mortifying situations. Nothing like fighting with your sibling in front of the world. I pulled out my cell, relieved to see Striker’s name on my caller ID. I answered, leaning against the wall, my cheeks hot and my breath rapid. “Hello?”

  “Hey,” he said, his deep vo
ice like a balm to my unease. “You okay, Chance?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine,” I lied. “What’s up?”

  “Well, since it’s such a nice day outside, I was wondering if you might like to have an early dinner with me this afternoon. I thought maybe we could pick up some takeout at the diner and have an impromptu picnic in the park in town. Gus needs me to work a shift for her tonight, so I won’t be around then.”

  “Oh, um. Okay.” My shoulders slumped, some of my tension leaving. “That sounds good. I haven’t had lunch, so I’ll just wait and eat with you later. What time?”

  “Four thirty too late?”

  “Nope. Sounds good.” I checked the clock on my desk. “Perfect, actually. I’ve got an errand to run before then, so we can discuss Albert’s case over our meal.”

  “Great.” I could hear the smile in his voice, and my toes curled in my shoes despite my wishes to the contrary. He was just so darned charming and kind and wonderful. “I’ll see you then. You want me to pick up some sandwiches?”

  “Yep.”

  “Awesome. See you at four thirty.”

  “See you.” Warm fuzzies filled me as I ended the call then grinned like an idiot.

  I gathered my purse and tiptoed past Pandora, who was laying on her cat bed in the window, on my way to the front door. I’d wanted to head over to the church without her, but that never worked out well. Somehow my cat seemed to have a sixth sense about my leaving and always followed. I didn’t want to take the chance of her navigating the streets of Mystic Notch by herself, so I figured I’d take her along with me.

  But when I checked, Pandora was sound asleep.

  Maybe, for once, I could go somewhere on my own. I headed down the cookbook aisle to tell Hanna where I was going. Then I slipped out the back door of the shop and headed for First Hope.

  15

  Pandora opened her eyes as soon as she heard the door shut behind Willa. A quick glance around showed Hanna busy with a customer, making it the perfect time to escape. She climbed out of her warm sherpa-lined bed and had a good stretch before taking off for the storage closet in the back of the store and the secret opening inside of it that led outside. After a few strategically placed bats of her paw on the door, the storage closet creaked open, and Pandora disappeared inside.

  She zipped around various mops, buckets, and brooms to the far corner then slipped behind a box of cleaning supplies and into the tight tunnel through the wall. With a bit of squeezing, she soon emerged out into the alley beside the shop, where the warm sunshine directly opposed the chilly breeze ruffling her fur.

  From there, she sped toward the woods at the edge of Mystic Notch, where her seventh sense had told her the other cats would be meeting. She was excited to share her updates on her plans to get Willa focused on finding the killer and how she brought her human and Striker’s talents together. She hoped the others had been as lucky as well and they could get this murder mess wrapped up sooner than expected.

  Near the edge of Elspeth’s property, just outside the barn, she found the other felines waiting. Otis was there, along with Inkspot and Tigger. Beside Tigger sat Truffles—a small tortoiseshell cat with black-and-orange mottled fur and eerie greenish-yellow eyes.

  Pandora made her way around the circle, sniffing and greeting each cat in turn, before settling into a spot beside Sasha to listen. Conversations were already underway.

  “Well, I’ve been following people all day,” Truffles said, “trying to figure out who’s the killer.”

  “Same here,” Sasha said. “No luck so far.”

  “You cats are going about this all wrong,” Otis said, shifting his sizable bulk. “If Albert was killed trying to deliver that note, then whoever did it will surely have started recovering ingredients in order to reverse the pleasantry charm by now. You look for evidence of that, and you’ll find your human.”

  “What evidence?” Hope, a young chimera cat whose half-orange, half-black face was divided exactly down the middle of her nose, asked. Her eyes, one blue and one green, looked curiously at Otis.

  “Well, digging, I suppose. If Hester buried the ingredients, then the human would be digging. We should be able to raise our senses and smell the freshly turned earth mixed with the scent of a cover-up.”

  “Speaking of humans,” Inkspot said in his deep, rumbling voice. “How are things going with your human, Pandora?”

  “Better than expected.” She licked her paw to avoid looking too proud of herself. “She’s coming along nicely. I was able to get her to imbibe the dandelion tea and speak with Albert’s ghost directly. I also got her and the other human, Striker, to join together with their powers. They should be able to find the murderer any day now, as they will be more powerful with their forces combined.”

  Otis scoffed. “Sounds doubtful to me.”

  Gaze narrowed, Pandora gave her nemesis a measured stare. Despite their differences, having that pleasantry charm lifted would make life harder for all of them. Given Otis’s penchant for lying around and being lazy, she couldn’t imagine he’d like his days inconvenienced in any way. Especially not by having to run around the Notch and babysit humans who were bickering and turning to evil deeds. Therefore, he must be rooting for her to succeed deep down inside. She took comfort in that idea and decided not to whap him hard with her paw for being nasty.

  “I didn’t know Striker could see ghosts too,” Truffles said. “Then again, you’re the only feline amongst us who can also talk to the spirits, so if anyone would know, it would be you, Pandora.”

  “True.” Pandora gave a slight shake of her head. “I think I’m making good headway with Striker too. He seems a bit more receptive to my suggestions than Willa.”

  “While some of us spend their time manipulating weak-minded humans,” Otis said, his tone as grating as always, “others of us are trying to solve this case. We need results and fast.”

  “Me-yow!” Kelley yelped from the shadows, and all eyes turned to her as she trotted into the group. She sat down, curling her tail around her haunches, and Pandora noticed the poor thing’s tail was covered in brambles and burrs. That looked as painful as heck.

  “What happened?” Inkspot asked.

  “I have news. I ran all the way from the river, through Farmer Duffy’s field.”

  “The field?” Sasha’s blue eyes were wide. “But you know that place is full of burrs and brambles.”

  “I know.” Kelley looked at her tail. “But I did not want to waste time. The news is of the utmost importance. The killer has already started digging up the first ingredient.”

  “The first ingredient?” Truffles said. “What is it?”

  “Eye of newt?” Otis asked.

  “Raindrops from the petals of the foxglove plant?” Sasha suggested.

  “Salamander legs?” Tigger said.

  “I have no idea what it is.” Kelley gingerly tried to comb out her mangled tail, wincing. “All I saw when I was in the woods was the hole the killer left behind. I smelled their desperation and victory, and there was a subtle scent of ancient times.”

  “Ancient times?” Inkspot’s voice was a low growl. “Then it must have been one of the ingredients.”

  “Whatever they took had been kept in a jar too. The glass had been smashed everywhere. It’s a wonder I didn’t cut my paw trying to get out of there. Whoever killed Albert wasn’t so lucky. I smelled their blood—O positive.”

  “That doesn’t help at all.” Otis scowled. “That’s the most common type in humans.”

  “Maybe it will be of assistance,” Inkspot said, wandering over to help Kelley with her matted fur. “At least we now have one clue. We can be on the lookout for a human with a cut or scratch from the glass.”

  “Does anyone know how many ingredients are in the charm?” Pandora asked.

  The others shook their heads.

  “I’d say anywhere from five to ten. That seems pretty typical for a charm,” Tigger said.

  “And the killer only has one?�
� Sasha straightened. “That should give us a little time.”

  “We don’t know for sure how many the killer has,” Otis said. “No telling where the rest might be hidden either. I doubt that the human, Hester Warren, was dumb enough to bury them all in the same place. She’d scatter them around, hide them in different places. For all we know, the rest could just be sitting somewhere on a shelf in an old building.” He gave Pandora an assessing look. “Maybe even stowed away in a church or with those musty old books your human loves so much.”

  “I think our best bet at this point is to break up into groups,” Inkspot said, his tone commanding. “Each pair will follow a suspect. There is Nathan Anderson, Felicity Bates, Desmond Lacroix. Time is of the essence. We need to discover the identity of the killer before they find all the ingredients, or there’s no telling what will happen.”

  16

  I walked down the street to First Hope Church. From the exterior, it didn’t look like much—boxy and white. Once I was inside, it took my eyes a few minutes to adjust to the dimmer light, and I blinked hard to clear my vision. Eventually, I could make out rows of dark oak pews lining the sides of the space. Light spilled in from the large, round stained-glass window set high in the gable at the far end of the church, casting a rainbow of colors across the modest altar. Frosted rectangular windows with rounded tops were spaced along the walls, but they didn’t let in a lot of light. The air was as quiet as a library and smelled of candle wax and sweet incense. To the left of the altar, three rows of small confessional candles flickered.

  My footsteps echoed across the empty church as I walked down the marble center aisle on the way to the back, where the office was. That was where I figured I’d find Emma or Pastor Foley.