Ghost Mysteries & Sassy Witches (Cozy Mystery Multi-Novel Anthology)

by Неизвестный

  “Good luck with your training,” I called after her.

  I pulled out my phone to see if my father had called yet. I’d missed a number of calls, thanks to it being on silent and being buried deep in my purse. As I scrolled through, the phone buzzed with an incoming call.

  The caller identification read MISTY FALLS POLICE.

  Chapter 12

  I answered my phone, and Tony replied with, “I’m sorry.”

  “Your new rookie isn’t so bad,” I said. “It was a bit rude for you to foist me onto her like that, but I know you’re busy.”

  With a gravelly voice that scratched into my ear, he said, “Not about that. This is a personal call.”

  The surprising intimacy of his voice got me moving. I’d been standing at the corner in front of Ruby’s store, but now I started toward the veterinary clinic, walking quickly, with the phone tight against my ear.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  Again, he said, “I’m sorry.”

  “Tony, don’t be sorry about the other stuff. It was ten years ago. That ship sailed. I’m happy for you and your growing family. Honestly, I am.”

  “Good,” he said, sounding a little confused.

  “And I don’t need your pity, but just between us, I could use your help with the gossip situation here in town. If you catch people telling lies about the billions of dollars I supposedly walked away from, take out your gun and shoot them.”

  He didn’t respond.

  “Not fatally,” I said. “Just shoot off a toenail or something. You always were good at target practice.”

  He didn’t laugh. “Stop talking for a minute. I have something to tell you.”

  I’d neared the vet clinic but didn’t want to conclude the conversation inside. I brushed the snow off a bench and took a seat.

  “Hit me,” I said.

  “Have you spoken to Finn recently?”

  My blood ran cold as my thoughts raced to the worst possible scenario. Something could have gone wrong during surgery, explaining why he hadn’t called.

  My voice barely a whisper, I said, “No. Why?”

  Silent seconds stretched out painfully. Finally, talking fast, he said, “I have eyewitness reports that your father and Mr. Michaels had a number of altercations, some of them recent.”

  I leaned back on the cold bench, sighing with relief.

  “That’s all? Thanks for testing my heart valves, Tony Baloney. For a minute, I thought something had gone wrong with Dad’s surgery. I still have to check up on him.” With a snort, I added, “And I need to inform him and Pam that they can’t tell a girl cat from a boy.”

  “You’re not listening,” Tony growled. “Finnegan was overheard threatening to choke Michaels. This happened on multiple occasions.”

  “Says who?” I asked.

  “Witnesses.”

  “Oh, hell. If those two weren’t arguing over whose tree was dropping leaves onto whose lawn, it was about someone’s safety lights shining into the other one’s window. Those two liked giving each other a hard time.”

  “A threat is still a threat,” Tony said gravely.

  “Of course it is, Officer Milano.” I pronounced his name icily, transferring the coldness of the bench seat to my voice. “Speaking of threats, I’ve got a new one. Grab a pen, will you?” I paused, imagining him rolling his eyes. “Ready? Here’s the deal. Finnegan Day is going to kick your skinny half-Italian butt halfway to Washington State if he finds out that for even one minute you considered him a suspect.”

  Tony said flatly, “I’m doing my job.”

  “Then keep doing your job and investigate this thing properly. Did you know Mr. Michaels was shoplifting all over town?”

  He answered cagily, “What have you heard?”

  “I’ve heard he wasn’t very popular with the Broad Avenue merchants. You might want to drop into Masquerade and get a look at the mugshot Leo Jenkins has on his corkboard. Don’t go now. He’s closed early for the day. Oh, and stop in to the Treasure Trove. Ruby’s got at least one security camera running in there, so maybe she has footage of him in action. She says she hasn’t had shoplifting trouble, but if some of the other merchants have, I bet she’d be able to tell you. Plus she seems to know stuff about people.”

  “What? Ruby’s Treasure Trove? What are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about leads in the case. This is all information I got by canvassing the local businesses, and it didn’t take much more than an hour. You could have done it yourself while you were eating your poppy seed bagel. You’re welcome, by the way.”

  He was quiet, but I could see him in my mind, rubbing his temples. “You can’t be getting involved in this,” he said. “This isn’t a donut shop robbery. It’s a murder investigation. If you go around asking too many questions, you’ll get yourself hurt.”

  I replied, “Not to mention, I could make you look bad by cracking the case myself.”

  He snorted. “Right.”

  I raised my voice. “Fine. Take care of everything. I don’t care what you do, as long as you do something, and leave my father out of it.”

  Before he could respond, I ended the call. My throat felt tight, as though I’d been yelling the entire time, or straining not to. I glanced around to see if anyone had heard me, but the sidewalks were quiet on that street.

  The door to the vet’s office squeaked open, and an elderly woman with a Pekingese came out, giving me a friendly look as she and the fluffy dog walked my way.

  She stopped in front of my bench. “Are you okay, dear? Do you need a ride somewhere? I think you live in my neighborhood. Quite the day we’re all having, isn’t it? First it was snowing so nicely, but now have you heard about Murray Michaels? Puts a damper on the weather, and I don’t think anyone will be making a snowman for a while, at least not until the memory fades. Where are you headed? Are you dressed warmly enough? You should have a hat. Would you like to borrow mine?” She patted the white and gray knitted hat on her own head. The yarn matched her white and gray hair, coming out in curly wisps under the cap.

  I smiled and got to my feet. “Thanks for the offer, but I’ve got my car here, and I’m picking up a cat.”

  At the mention of a cat, the Pekingese, who was as fluffy as any I’d ever seen, barked sharply. The woman said, “We don’t mention the C-A-T word in front of Miss Molly. She’s usually a good girl, but some things tend to set her off.”

  “I know how she feels,” I said.

  We said goodbye, and the woman gave me a wave with one gloved hand before walking away.

  I blinked up at the sky, which was growing darker now that another short winter day in the Pacific Northwest was coming to an end. Standing, I could feel the shakiness in my legs, the adrenaline from talking to Tony. I’d almost forgotten how angry I used to get, all those times I couldn’t avoid defending my father. I avoided debates about the role of law enforcement in Misty Falls, and specifically about my father, but that didn’t stop trouble from seeking me out.

  What was Tony thinking, suggesting my father might have harmed his neighbor?

  If anyone knew my father’s true character, it was Tony. They’d worked closely together for years. Tony had to know my father was as passionate about justice and fairness as anyone. Sometimes the other cops would rough people up but not my father. He left the judge and jury work to the judge and jury, as it should be. He rarely used force, preferring to get people talking, or better yet, laughing. If he’d said anything to his neighbor about choking, it had to have been a joke.

  I shivered. The idea that Finnegan Day could be a suspect was absurd, but Tony must have told me for a reason. What was he up to? He probably expected me to call my father and give him the news.

  I looked down at my phone and scrolled through the missed calls and text messages. They were all from Pam, which worried me, until I opened the most recent message.

  Pam Bochenek: I spoke to your father ten minutes ago. He says the surgery went well but he sti
ll needs to measure his legs. His biggest complaint is that the coffee at the hospital is terrible. Are you okay? I heard the news. I’m so deeply sorry that it was you who found that mess. It should have been me. How is the cat?

  I composed a message back: I’m fine. Just picking the cat up now. See you soon.

  My message was short, yet difficult to write. I stumbled, as I had been doing lately, over what to call the house. I wanted to call it home because I’d grown up there, and it had been my home for years, but I didn’t live there anymore, whereas Pam did. Simply calling it home felt untrue at best, antagonistic and territorial at worst. Calling it Dad’s house didn’t feel right either, yet I couldn’t bring myself to say it was her house, as in “see you at your house soon.” Those words wouldn’t come out of my mouth or off my fingertips.

  I finished and sent the short message.

  What I didn’t include was any hint about my father being a suspect. Tony had leaked that information to me for a reason. He wanted me to shake the hornet’s nest for him, but he was in for a surprise. I wasn’t going to do his bidding.

  I dropped my phone into my purse and strode up to the door of the Calico Veterinary Clinic, bracing myself for the place’s particular canned-stew aroma.

  Chapter 13

  “How’s the patient?” I asked.

  “Who?” Natasha, the veterinary assistant whose hair resembled the vibrant skin of a Red Delicious apple, blinked at me with comically wide eyes.

  “The Russian Blue cat,” I said. “He came in here for the full spa treatment, if you know what I mean. Did everything go well?”

  “Yes, of course. I’ll get him for you.” She walked backward, keeping her eyes on me.

  Natasha must have been talking to the woman with the Pekingese, learning of what I’d discovered that morning. My suspicions were confirmed by the not-quite-hushed-enough tones of her discussing the murder with someone else in the back room.

  While Natasha and her coworker debated whether I should get a discount on the neutering simply because they felt sorry for me, I searched for something to read while I waited. There wasn’t much for magazines, and since I already knew more than anyone should about the life cycle of fleas, I pulled out my phone.

  There was a message from my real estate agent, who either hadn’t heard the day’s big news or was trying hard to be a professional and not ask.

  Samantha Sweet: Everything’s set up for me to show the rental tonight. His name is Logan Sanderson, and he’s moved here to work at a law firm. Is there anything specific you’d like me to ask him?

  I looked at the waiting room chair where Logan had been sitting when I met him that morning. My first impression of the tall, bearded man was not favorable. First he’d laughed at me for not knowing Jeffrey was a male, and then he’d made lewd comments about winning the favor of his uptight landlady. Those were two strikes against him. But then, when Tony Milano had come to haul me off to the station, Logan had sprung into action, literally jumping to his feet to offer me assistance. I tried not to be pessimistic about the future, but I could imagine there coming a time, someday, when I might need a lawyer. Having one next door could prove handy.

  I wrote back to the real estate agent: I trust you. If you vouch for this guy, you can make the deal and give him the keys tonight.

  As I tapped the screen to send the message, I knew I’d made the right decision. No tenant or employee or partner comes without flaws, and it’s better to know which ones you’re dealing with ahead of time.

  Natasha returned with a sleepy-eyed Jeffrey, snuggled inside his pet carrier.

  “Is it all true?” Natasha asked me.

  Because she had the decency to ask me directly, I told her it was, and that Jeffrey was the real hero because he’d led me right to the body.

  “Cats know things,” she said. “They have special senses for danger, which is why they’re so curious.”

  I added, “And why they need those nine lives.”

  Natasha frowned. “That’s just a myth. They don’t come back from the dead.” She went on to give me Jeffrey’s after-care instructions, warning me to call them if anything alarming happened since the truth was he only had one life.

  As I was gathering the pet carrier and supplies to leave, she said, “Such a shame about that Murray fellow, especially seeing as how he’d just reconciled with his family.”

  I paused and set everything down on the counter. “His family? I didn’t think he had any children.”

  “Well,” Natasha said, taking a big breath. “I was talking to Mrs. Catfish, who knows a gentleman who lives near Warbler Street, and he told her that Murray Michaels was excited about getting back in touch with some family members. She seemed to think it was a nephew or a niece.”

  I asked, “How sure was she?”

  “Mrs. Catfish is in her nineties, but she’s a sharp one.” She leaned over to check on Jeffrey, who appeared to be listening with great interest, his gray ears perky in contrast to his sleepy eyes. “I suppose if there’s any money to be had, the family will come out of the woodwork to hear the will.”

  Right then, Jeffrey decided he’d had enough human conversation. He stuck his gray paw through the door of his cage and caught me with his claws.

  “Yes, we’re going home,” I told him, trying to shake free.

  “Be careful,” Natasha said. “We’re all going to be keeping our eyes open and our doors locked until this thing’s settled.”

  “Definitely lock your doors,” I said. “But don’t get paranoid about strangers. Most murder victims are killed by someone they know.”

  Her mouth dropped open, reminding me of how my friends used to react whenever I told them the truth about crime statistics.

  Jeffrey dug his claws into my hand deeper, reminding me that my primary obligation was to him. He blinked up at me with jade green eyes that weren’t quite focused and curled his paw around my finger as though we were holding hands. My heart melted like a pat of butter on a hot blueberry pancake.

  Feeling fuzzy as my parental instincts kicked into overdrive, I thanked Natasha, left with the pet carrier, and got us both loaded into the car with Jeffrey’s carrier in the passenger seat. I started the engine, ensured the seat warmers were at maximum, and turned the radio volume down so I could sit quietly for a moment.

  Jeffrey let out the most pitiful meow.

  “I know, Jeffrey. I know it’s cold. Give the heaters a minute.”

  He tried to stand up inside the pet carrier, but his legs were wobbly. His unfocused eyes seemed to be full of love for me, despite everything. I popped open the hatch at the top of the carrier and gave him some pats. His purr started with a ferocious rumble as he bunted his head against my palm. Just when I thought my heart couldn’t melt any more, it did.

  “Good drugs?”

  He gazed at me, the corners of his shiny dark gray lips turned up in what had to be a kitty smile. He didn’t seem concerned about his stitches but had a cone to put around his head in case he did start pulling at them.

  “You’re such a good boy,” I told him. “And now that you’ve had your little snip-snip, we don’t have to worry about any kittens showing up on the doorstep.”

  Jeffrey grabbed my thumb in his mouth and gave me a sleepy love bite.

  “Do you think that’s what happened to Mr. Michaels? Some long-lost kid showed up and started shaking him down for cash?”

  Jeffrey gnawed and licked my thumb as though it was a delicious breadstick.

  “But why kill him?” I asked. “And don’t say for the inheritance, it takes ages for wills to get changed, and if the person dies under suspicious circumstances, it’s pretty obvious the new beneficiary did something.”

  Jeffrey fell asleep with my thumb in his mouth. I gently extricated it and reached for my phone as an idea crystallized.

  Imagining my thumb as a breadstick had brought to mind the Olive Grove and not because I was hungry for dinner. The waitresses who worked there wore dark green
slacks and cream blouses as their uniform, just like the blonde girl who’d applied her makeup in Ruby’s two-way mirror. She’d seemed more upset than the typical townsperson about the news, assuming that was what she’d been talking about with Jenkins and the woman on the scooter. I didn’t know anything about the blonde, let alone if she was a long-lost relative of Murray Michaels, but I knew someone else who might have more information.

  I composed a brief text message to an old friend of mine but paused before sending it. I’d been avoiding Jessica Kelly since my return to Misty Falls. We’d been close, once, but our closeness had been replaced by an uncomfortable wariness, and I couldn’t even remember why it was we’d fallen out. Did I really want to contact her for a favor? Was finding out more about the blonde, who might have simply been having a bad day, worth the hassle of blowing on the embers of a relationship that had gone so cold? And what business did I even have, sticking my nose into the investigation?

  Then again, what business did Tony have treating my father, a man who did nothing but serve the needs of the town, as a suspect?

  My outrage at Tony steamed up inside me. He was going to be sorry he told me to stay clear of this matter. He’d underestimated my abilities and how far I’d go to defend my father. I’d do anything for him.

  I hit the send button.

  Chapter 14

  I drove toward my father’s house one-handed, my right hand in the pet carrier, rubbing Jeffrey’s head and chin to keep him from meowing about the inhumanity of being in a cage, inside a moving vehicle.

  I parked at the back of the house, next to Pam’s car, in the space next to the garage. The sun was already setting, and judging by the brightness of the windows next door, the crime scene technicians were collecting evidence to be tested. They would have their work cut out for them because Murray Michaels had been what some people call a packrat. His garbage can was never overflowing on pickup day because the man didn’t throw out anything, not even broken items. Whenever some type of pest appeared in my father’s house, from pantry moths to mice, Mr. Michaels would be blamed.