Murder At The Museum: A Witch Cozy Mystery (A Bluebell Knopps Witch Cozy Mystery Book 4)

by Nancy McGovern

  “Martine,” the girl said. She looked like she was in her mid-twenties, but her shy demeanor made Bluebell think of a high-schooler somehow.

  The door clanged behind them, and the officer who had met Bluebell yesterday walked in. His uniform looked like it had just been pressed, and his face looked shiny and shaved. He yawned and stretched, then plopped down next to Bluebell. “A coffee, Martine, please, before I pass out right here on the counter.”

  “You and the boys up late last night, KD?”

  “Oh, you know how it is. Danny bet me I couldn’t beat him at pool, and next thing I know it’s 2am, we’re up on the roof of his house using the pool sticks as swords.”

  “Oof.” Martine laughed and shook her head. “Bozos, the lot of you. Haven’t changed a bit since high school.”

  “You have though.” KD had an admiring tone in his voice that made Bluebell look from him to Martine. She’d expected Martine to blush even harder, but to her surprise, Martine took it in her stride, saying, “Flattery won’t earn you any free breakfasts, Deputy.”

  “Oh you’re so mean.” He sighed as she went back to the kitchen. The door was clanging repeatedly now, as people from town poured in for a coffee and a chat. Bluebell focused on her own plate, eagerly scooping up the eggs and savoring the bacon.

  “Good hearty food, isn’t it?” KD said. “Isn’t fancy fare, but fills the stomach just fine.”

  “Good morning to you too, officer.” Bluebell smiled. “Will you be ordering some yourself?”

  “Naw. I always eat the most sinful desserts for breakfasts, so it kind of makes up for having to get out of my warm friendly bed, you know?”

  “What’s all this talk of beds?” A hand slapped down on KD’s shoulder as Barry seated himself on the counter. “You’ll have all the girls in the diner blushing, KD.”

  “Barry, you rogue, some of us can go a second or two without flirting,” KD said with a smile. He bent down to pet Colby, who was eagerly sniffing at his ankles. It was typical early morning banter, Bluebell supposed, yet Barry’s face looked tense. She wondered why.

  “Well, in other news, Rebecca’s gone down to the station,” Barry said, unable to keep the source of his tension to himself. “She went off early this morning.”

  “What’s that? The police station? Our station?” KD straightened up, looking very interested. “How come?”

  “Well, she’s gone to report her assistant Greg missing,” Barry said.

  “It’s been a week since he left now, has it?” KD asked.

  “Yes. He was renting one of my properties, actually. You know the small cottage down by Willow Avenue? I went down there to see if he’d been there yet, and the place is… weird. It’s like he left for the day and just never came back. There’s a newspaper on his coffee table, dated a week ago. There’s milk that’s expired in the fridge, and all his clothes and his stuff are right there. Unwashed laundry and everything. There were even a couple of quarters and a paper-clip on the dining table, like he’d emptied his pocket.” Barry shook his head. “I got a bad feeling about this, you know?”

  “Well…” KD took a sip of coffee, and nodded. “Looks like we’ll have to make some enquiries. Did Rebecca try contacting his people?”

  “Well, that’s the thing, see.” Barry frowned. “Greg had filled out one of those forms, emergency contacts and the like. Well, the contacts he gave don’t seem to exist. Rebecca called the number and it turns out nobody by that name ever lived there. We ran his social security number and it turns out it’s all fake. Greg’s a ghost!”

  KD’s eyes sharpened, but his tone remained nonchalant as he said, “Well, it happens. Sometimes people are shady, that’s all. Don’t go jumping to conclusions, Barry.”

  “I’m sitting, not jumping,” Barry said. “Still you can’t deny it’s downright weird, can you?”

  “Speaking of downright weird,” KD said, “Look who just walked in.”

  Bluebell turned slightly, to see a portly man with a beard and a thin woman with curly hair walk into the diner. Even this early, the man was dressed in an impressive three-piece suit, with a rose neatly tucked into the lapel. From the way people turned around to look at him, and the beatific smile he gave, Bluebell could tell he was an important man. The woman, however, had her mouth pursed up, and was blinking slowly as if still half asleep. She was dressed in workout gear, sweatpants and a neon green t-shirt that said, Granny Does Marathons, Too.

  “Ah, Rebecca’s new assistant, isn’t it?” The man came up to Bluebell and shook her hand. Something about the practiced way he did it had Bluebell instantly guessing his profession - politician. “I’m Mayor of Katydid’s Tooth. Welcome to the town. My name’s William Clark. This is my wife Sandra.” He ushered her forward.

  Sandra. Why did that name sound familiar? Bluebell crinkled her nose, then remembered. Rebecca had thought Sandra was sending her those weird postcards. Sandra looked Bluebell up and down, unimpressed, then without a word to her, turned to her husband and said, “Order an egg white omelet for me, would you? With dry toast and jasmine tea.” She walked off to sit at a booth, leaving the mayor looking a little deflated.

  “Lovely to meet you,” Bluebell said. “The town’s been so kind to me so far, and I love how pretty it is.”

  “It is pretty, isn’t it?” The mayor puffed up a bit. “We’ve been working on renewing some of the houses downtown. There’s history here in Katydid’s Tooth, and we’re proud of it.”

  “I’m sure my work at the museum will put me in touch with town history,” Bluebell said. “Though I’m just here till Rebecca gets a proper replacement.”

  “You’re working at that museum?” Sandra walked up to the mayor and Bluebell again, her frown deepening. “Billy, why haven’t you ordered yet?”

  “Right. I’ll get to it, dear.” With a polite smile to Bluebell he walked off to talk to Jamie.

  Sandra turned to Bluebell. “It’s a horrible place,” she said. “The museum, that is. I feel it pollutes the town with its… pagan ways.”

  “Oh. Well, it’s all in good fun, I guess,” Bluebell said. “No one believes witches are real, after all. Not in this day and age, right?” Internally, she wondered how Sandra would feel if Bluebell were to suddenly levitate her.

  “Now, Sandra. Let’s just have a good breakfast and forget all this unpleasantness, shall we?” Barry asked from beside Bluebell. “No need to bring up all that stuff about the museum.”

  “It stands where my ancestral house once stood,” Sandra said with a sniff. “Preposterous!”

  “Well, it is what it is,” Barry said. “Rebecca’s doing a good job bringing tourism into this town, and I think you should leave the topic alone now.” His tone was still friendly, but Sandra seemed to take it as a personal affront.

  “Well, your wife should know that I’m lobbying some members to protest against it,” Sandra said. “I, for one, think values are more important than money.”

  “Third protest this year, isn’t it?” Barry asked. “Where do you find the time, Sandra?”

  “I’ll have you know—”

  Bluebell finished up her meal hurriedly, and left some money by her plate. “I’ll be going now,” she said. “I’ve lingered too long over breakfast, and Rebecca probably needs me.”

  “She’ll be at the museum,” Barry said. “She said she’d go there directly after visiting the station.”

  “Great.” Bluebell smiled. “Thanks, Barry.”

  “Mind taking Colby with you? I need to go to the doctor’s after this, and I can’t take him along.”

  “No problem.” Bluebell smiled. She took the leash from Barry, and set off, leaving Sandra to glare at her back. With unpleasant people like that, Bluebell found that the best recourse was simply to not engage in conversation. Sandra and her ilk were rather skilled at taking the mildest words and turning them into insults. Whistling slightly, unaware of what was going to meet her ahead, Bluebell headed to the museum with Colby at her heels.
>
  It was about 9am by the time Bluebell and Colby reached the museum. A good day for a fresh start, Bluebell thought to herself, then wondered why she’d had that thought. She had no intention of staying here in town any more than two or three days, after all. This was no fresh start, this was a short break.

  As they walked up the steps on the porch, Colby whined and began to pull at his leash. He sat down and refused to come inside, even as Bluebell yanked on the leash.

  “Colby, darling, what is it?” Bluebell bent down and petted him. “You all right, buddy?”

  In reply, Colby gave another whine and put his head between his paws. His eyes looked up at her from between them, pleading with her. Giving up, she tied the leash to the railing, and promised the little terrier she would be back soon.

  Bluebell frowned. Something was wrong. For one thing, the door to the museum, which should have been closed, instead stood partly open. It didn’t look inviting at all, though. Second of all, the lights should have been on, and instead the hallway was dark.

  Bluebell gave a little shiver. The foyer of the museum contained a ticket office, and a small wooden door, passing through which led to the first great hallway of exhibitions. Moving to it, Bluebell flicked on the lights. They flooded on, and though every hair was standing on the back of her neck in the split second between darkness and light, Bluebell let out a sigh of relief once she saw that the hallway was normal.

  Well, normal wasn’t quite correct either. This was the Instruments section of the museum, and from brooms to cauldrons to supposed wands, the glass cases contained a variety of curiosities. Bluebell paused to admire an elaborately carved sculpture of a hanging bat with a clock in its stomach, before moving on.

  The second story was dark too. Wasn’t Rebecca here yet? Or was she simply trying to save on electricity? Either way, the darkness was giving Bluebell the creeps. “Hello?” she called out. Her voice echoed, but no one answered. Increasingly, as she walked up the stairs, Bluebell felt red lights flashing off in her head. Something incredibly bad was about to happen, and given the nature of her prophecy, she had half an idea what it was.

  Praying that it wasn’t true, she reached the office, and for the first time, found the door closed. Once, twice, thrice she knocked on it, then tried the doorknob. Slowly, the door creaked open. Even before it fully opened, Bluebell could smell dried herbs of some kind. But the smell was forgotten as her eyes took in the sight before her. The body of a man lay sprawled on the floor, his legs twisted unnaturally, and his eyes wide open, almost bulging out, as if in shock. He was quite obviously dead. Unable to choke back a scream, Bluebell raced down the stairs and out of the museum.

  *****

  Chapter 6

  Murder At The Museum

  “What a time for the sheriff to take his annual vacation.” Officer Keith Dunkirk sighed, as he took a sip of coffee from a steel thermos.

  “That’s all right, KD,” Deputy Daniels said. “We’ve got you to tide things over.”

  “The forensics team are pretty professional. They identified the body fast. It’s Rebecca’s assistant, all right. Greg Sanders,” KD said.

  “You worked with these guys before, right?” Daniels asked.

  “Yep. Only once, though. You know, I’ve been in the business five years now, and this is my second murder.”

  “First was Angie’s, right?” Deputy Daniels asked. “Bless her soul.”

  “Yes. That hardly counted as murder. It was obvious right from the start who did it. This is a different animal altogether.”

  “Worried we’re in over our heads, boss?”

  “Come on, Danny. Don’t call me boss. I’m a deputy just like you.”

  “Not now,” Daniels said. “Right now, you’re acting sheriff.”

  KD changed the topic. “So there’s no sign of Rebecca? She never showed up at the station at all?”

  “Nope,” Deputy Daniels said. “First I heard of it was when Barry told me she was planning to.”

  “Well, we’ve searched this museum up and down, and her house as well. There’s no way she’s here,” KD said with a sigh.

  Barry Brentwood entered, with Bluebell Knopps at his heels. KD straightened a little. This was going to be tricky.

  “My wife!” Barry said. “KD, you have to do something. We’ve looked all over town, I even put Colby on the scent. Rebecca’s vanished! Just completely disappeared!”

  “Right.” KD nodded slowly. “We’re treating that very seriously, Barry. Trust us. We’re going to do our best to find out what’s going on here.”

  “Oh, Greg was mixed up in something, I’m sure of it,” Barry said anxiously. “He was mixed up in something and… and… somehow my darling wife got involved by accident. Rebecca’s the sweetest woman in the world, KD. Please, do something. Her life is in danger, I can feel it.”

  KD nodded again. He didn’t really know what to say. There were too many things wrong right then - this was a cluster of bad news. The kind of day every officer dreaded. One man dead, one woman missing.

  “Barry,” Bluebell said soothingly. “Why don’t we sit down in the next room? The officers need time to gather data.”

  “We don’t have time!” Barry protested. “Someone’s taken Rebecca against her will. She could be captive somewhere. She could be dying. Someone was sending her death threats, you know. I didn’t pay attention because they were just pieces of red paper, but now...”

  “Barry, you have to stop shouting,” KD said, feeling the need to step in. “The most important thing you can do right now is to stay calm, all right?”

  “How can you expect me to stay calm when my wife’s missing!”

  “Barry.” KD took him by the shoulders. “Look at me, Barry.” Barry stilled, and looked at KD.

  “Nothing will happen to Rebecca, okay? I promise. You know I love her just as much as you do. The two of you were so good to me.”

  “We weren’t being good to you, we genuinely cared,” Barry said with a sigh. “You were a good kid, but it was plain to see you didn’t come from the best family. Rebecca took you under her wing.”

  “Right. All those years ago, and she changed my life forever,” KD said. “I would have been a criminal, Barry, were it not for her.”

  “Well, I know that feeling,” Barry said. “I was a criminal, before her.”

  Bluebell gave him a look. “What?” she asked.

  “Oh, the whole town knows,” Barry said. “I suppose you might as well know too. Before I met and married Rebecca, I was a biker. I led a wild life, went to jail a couple times too. I still have my hog in the garage, but it’s starting to show its age, just like me.”

  “So Rebecca…”

  “Rebecca’s the kind of lady who’s classy all the way to the bone,” Barry said. “She had a habit of taking on people who needed help, and giving them love and support. KD here, his mother died early, and his father preferred spending time in the bar rather than at work. At the time, Rebecca was working as Arts teacher in the high school, trying to put together enough money to start the museum. She was good to KD at a time when nobody wanted to look at him.”

  “Ten years on and I’m still grateful,” KD said. “I was a frustrated 16 year old. She turned me on the straight path. I’d already been thrown into juvie three times before, starting fires, bullying kids, you name it, I’d done it. All this anger I had inside, she made me channel it into art.” He paused, and took a deep breath. “So that’s the thing, Barry. I knew Rebecca before you even came into the picture. Rest assured I won’t let anything bad happen to her. Not a chance.”

  Barry nodded. “I believe you.” There was a ring of certainty to KD’s voice.

  “So go sit down for a bit. When forensics is done, I’ll come have a chat with you.” KD waved them away, and went to talk to a man in a white coat.

  “KD’s right that I should trust him,” Barry said. “He’ll find her soon. He has to. He will.”

  “Barry.” Bluebell paused. “I kn
ow you trust in KD and all. But have you thought this through?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I think you need a lawyer,” Bluebell said. “Fast.”

  “What?” Barry looked at her like she’d sprouted horns. “A lawyer?”

  “If Rebecca’s missing, there are two possibilities,” Bluebell said. “Either she was the one who killed Greg.”

  Barry’s face clouded with rage. “My Rebecca—”

  “I’m trying to point out what the police will think,” Bluebell said. “Either Rebecca murdered Greg and ran away, or… well, she’s missing because she’s a victim.”

  “She’s a victim, of course. No doubt about it,” Barry said. Yet for the first time, the slightest tinge of doubt crept into his voice.

  “If she’s a victim, Barry, guess who the first suspect will be,” Bluebell said.

  Barry looked horrified. “Me?”

  “A husband is always the first suspect if something happens to the wife. A husband with a criminal record and a history of violence? KD might have known you for years, but if he’s any kind of cop, he’s going to be forced to look hard at you. You need to protect yourself. Call a lawyer.”

  “But what about those postcards?” Barry asked. “She’s been receiving them every week. They started around the time she hired Greg. 8 weeks ago. She’s received one a week ever since. That means something, doesn’t it?”

  It had to mean something, but Bluebell couldn’t for the life of her figure out what.

  *****

  Chapter 7

  Wild Goose Chase

  “Rebecca!”

  “Where are you?”

  “Rebecca!”

  Cries echoed around the woods that surrounded Katydid’s Tooth. Bluebell was one of the volunteers, with a neon green vest tied around her and a torch in her hand. She didn’t need the torch really, considering it was broad daylight. It wasn’t even noon yet.

  “This is useless,” the woman next to Bluebell huffed. “We’re all wasting our time on a wild goose chase.”