"Yep. If that poor woman had been found here in the living room or something, I might not be able to stay in my own home."
Following him into the kitchen, she spotted him standing over the sink rapidly gulping down some water. He made a satisfied, "Ahh," as he finished it off. "Nothing tastes better than a cool glass of water after a good workout."
"It certainly seems like you've been working hard."
He set the glass on the counter. "So, any news on the woman?" he asked, referring to Sheba. He was taking the fact that a dead body had been found in his home very well.
"Well, Frank went in with the police early this morning," she admitted. She figured, if Jameson was the killer, he'd be put even more at ease knowing someone else might be at the end of the pointing finger.
"They don't suspect him, do they? Or is he just offering his help?"
"I'm not sure. They sort of brushed me off when I asked what was happening."
Jameson smiled and let out a tiny laugh. "That's cops for you. If they don't play their cards just right, the smallest mistake can let a criminal go."
"I suppose so."
"I'm so sorry. How rude of me. Would you like something to drink?" he offered, walking to the cabinet and getting out a clean glass.
"No, that's okay. I was just hoping maybe you'd heard something that could help clue me into what was going on."
He smirked and put the glass back. "I see. Can't get anything out of the police so your curiosity brings you here."
"I guess so," she agreed, sitting in a chair against the wall and near a small square table. A bowl of mixed nuts sat there for snacking purposes, but she didn't indulge.
"You know, Sonja, you have quite the reputation in town as being a talented private eye."
She tried not to smile and shook her head. "I'm not a private eye at all. No license or anything like that, anyway. I'm just a concerned citizen."
"That's not what the city council members think. A few of them think you're a nosy meddler."
Sonja cringed at that comment.
"But the others, including myself, think you've got a nose for crime."
Her eyebrows shot up. "You do?"
"Yes, ma'am. I think quite a few criminals have been caught thanks to you."
Sonja bit her lower lip, desperately trying not to blush. Hardly anyone ever complimented her investigative skills.
"Anyway, I'm sorry to say that I don't think I have much or any information to share that the police haven't already revealed," he noted, returning to her question.
"But you were here in the house when the murder happened, or at least when the body was dropped off."
He put a hand up like he was making a confession. "Honestly, I take a sleeping pill every night. I used to have insomnia until I got this prescription. It knocks me out cold."
"Oh, I see."
"Heck, I even let that state detective take a blood sample for proof."
"Wow, that's good of you," Sonja said.
"When it comes to the law, it's better to just cooperate and be genial--especially for someone like myself who is in a position in the public eye."
Who wasn't in the public eye in a small mountain town like Haunted Falls? Sonja wondered.
"So, you didn't notice anything strange or suspicious?"
He shrugged. "Not really. I mean, I guess I saw Charles walking around the streets that evening."
"Charles? From the bar?"
"Yeah, but it's no real surprise. I think he likes to walk when he takes breaks. I mean, that bar is just on the other side of those trees." He jabbed a finger toward the wooded area that separated the old neighborhood from the mountain road.
Charles had been present when Sheba originally showed up. He also had been vandalized. Could it be that he and Sheba had some sort of history? Had she vandalized his building?
She made a mental note to stop by the bar later.
"Anyway, I was out mowing the lawn. It's always best to mow in the evening when it's cool."
"Did you talk to him?"
"I said hello, but he seemed preoccupied." He paused, rubbing his lips together in thought. "Honestly, it seemed as if he were looking for something," he looked up into Sonja's eyes with a knowing smile, "or maybe someone."
Chapter 12
Finishing up with Jameson, Sonja asked if he would be willing to let her peek in the garage. She claimed she wanted to check all the garage sale stuff to make sure none of it had been broken in during the investigation.
Jameson gladly agreed, saying it was time for his second rep in the workout anyway.
As Sonja stepped through the house's side door into the garage, the music started up again. Turning on the light, she saw that the place looked almost untouched. It was as if a dead body and a squad of police officers had never even been in there.
Everything looked in order, nothing out of place, and Sonja figured she wouldn't find any clues on her own that the police hadn't already bagged up and taken away.
Instead, kneeling beside the old under-the-bed storage container, she took a moment to look over all the miniatures Frank had painted and been tempted to sell. They would be perfect for Friday game nights at the diner. She felt a little bad since she hadn't hosted them recently, what with all the stress of things going on.
She thought of her kids, the ones who always showed up each week, and worried that they were growing restless.
Honestly, a small town like this needed a shop dedicated completely to gaming. She made another mental note to talk to Frank about using all his miniatures to host a grand re-opening of game night.
Seeing as it was still summer, and the kids were all out of school, it would be the perfect time to do it.
Closing the box of minis, she stood up and brushed off her knees. Instead of going back through the house, she used the garage's outside door and stepped out into the small wooded area behind the house. Everything was still a little damp from the mountain's morning mists but going through the woods was one of the faster ways to get to the bar.
As she stepped between the trees, something stuck to the bottom of her shoe. Bending down, she pulled off what appeared to be a candy wrapper. She read the label. Peanut Butter Doodles. She'd never heard of it.
She was about to shove it haphazardly into her purse to properly dispose of later when she froze. Peanut Butter Doodles? Of course! Sheba had died of an allergic reaction, and Frank had said she was deathly allergic to peanuts.
However, he'd also mentioned just how careful she always was to avoid any harmful foods. She wouldn't have been foolish enough to eat something like that without thinking first.
Still, Sonja carefully wrapped it in a plastic baggie from her purse--ones she stored there for collecting evidence--and saved it to show Frank later.
She hoped that Jameson was right and that the police were only asking Frank to come along to help with the investigation and not because he was their number one suspect.
Continuing her walk, she quickly found herself at the back end of the bar.
She was surprised to see Charles standing on a step stool with a soapy sponge in hand and scrubbing away at the wall. It seemed only a few smudges remained of the vandalism that had occurred earlier that week.
"Morning, Charles," she called.
Turning quickly, as if surprised by the sudden voice behind him, he wobbled back and forth on the stool. Sonja gasped but was relieved when the older gentleman caught himself on the brick wall.
"Woo, that was a close one," he called out.
"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to startle you."
Dropping the sponge down into a plastic bucket of water below, he descended the steps. "That's okay, Sonja. You just caught me off guard is all. Thought you might be someone else."
"Nope. It's just me."
"So, I heard about all the drama over at Frank's old place," he noted, shaking the water and suds off his hands.
"Yeah, another dead body."
"It's too bad, r
eally. Sheba was a sweet girl."
Sonja's jaw hung open slightly, but she managed to keep her shock mostly at bay. "You knew her?"
"Sure. She used to come into the bar on evenings when Frank was working back then. She didn't have a job and got pretty bored and lonely, I'd say."
"Wow. Did you talk to the police about it?" she asked. As the words left her mouth, she realized it may not be a smart question. If there was a history, even a small one, between Charles and Sheba, he could be the killer.
But Charles? He was a big teddy bear.
"No, I haven't. Do you think I should?"
"It might be a good idea. Just to be thorough."
"I suppose," he sighed, clearly not wanting to get involved. Charles was the kind of man who listened to everyone's troubles over the bar but never got caught up in things if he could help it. "I have to admit, I was surprised to see her."
"Why didn't you say anything? Not even a hello?" Sonja pressed, finding his passive behavior the other day suddenly suspicious.
"You know, Sheba was one of my only customers I told some of my own troubles too. She was a good listener you know." He shrugged. "I guess some of those things embarrassed me and I didn't feel like facing them again."
Still, Sonja thought, how could he just ignore that he even knew her. Why had she not said anything to him?
Charles was shaking his head as he thought. "You know, she was different, too. Sheba was a sweetheart. The other day, though, she seemed downright mean. Almost as if she were a different person."
Sonja was about to ask how Sheba had been before, but she was interrupted when the crunch of tires on the small gravel parking lot drew their attention. A car pulled in and parked beside the building.
"Now, who could that be?" Charles grunted unhappily. "We don't open until four for crying out loud."
As the car engine turned off, Sonja noticed a woman dressed in a police uniform and wearing thick sunglasses behind tinted windows. Was this an undercover cop car?
As the driver side door opened and the woman got out, Charles gasped--turning a sick, pale color. "N-No. It can't be."
Sonja looked at the woman again, confused about what was so shocking.
As the woman removed her glasses, Sonja finally put two-and-two together.
It was Sheba.
Chapter 13
"I was at the Denver station yesterday doing desk work and stumbled across this report in the system that I was dead. Me. Now, how is that possible if I'm right here?" Sheba asked, hands splayed on the desk in the sheriff's office. Both Frank, who stood in the corner, and the state detective had pale, shocked expressions on their faces.
They couldn't believe they were talking to Sheba right now since they'd both seen her dead.
As a result, no one had noticed Sonja and Charles both standing in the doorway, having accompanied her to the police station.
She had stopped by the bar to see Charles first thing upon coming into town, claiming she trusted him to tell her the truth of what was happening.
"I had to jump in my car and drive down here myself just to make sure I knew what was going on. I didn't even change out of my uniform."
"I-I'm not sure what to say," Frank admitted.
"You don't have any explanation for me, Frank?" Sheba shot back with a hint of irritation. She came off as angry, frustrated even, but not rude.
It was a strange contrast to when they'd spoken to her the other day.
"It was you, Sheba," Frank insisted, motioning to his ex-girlfriend. "I talked to you the other day and then found your body in my old garage."
"Well, go check the body, because you're mistaken."
"Clearly," he noted, looking her up and down again just to make sure she was real.
The detective stood up. "As a matter of fact, we have checked the body. This morning."
Frank folded his arms. "And it wasn't you," he pointed out.
She held up both hands. "Well, there you go."
"But it was you," the detective insisted. "When we looked this morning, I had thought someone had stolen your body and replaced it with another."
She shrugged. "I don't know what to tell you, but I have not been in this town for a long time. Not until this very moment." She pointed at the desk emphatically.
"But we have pictures of the body from the crime scene," the detective insisted, his face growing red. It seemed silly that he was fighting so hard when it was obvious he was wrong.
"I saw some of those pictures in the report online, and no, it was not me."
"They are you," the detective growled between his teeth.
"Go ahead and pull them up. Show me," she demanded, growing even more impatient.
"Fine," he grunted, plopping back down onto the desk chair and clicking around on the computer. "Here we are. See these pictures are . . ." his voice trailed off. The redness in his cheeks rushed out of his face, leaving him a pale.
"Well?" she asked.
Frank moved in, leaning over the computer. "These . . . These are all pictures of the woman on the slab," he said out loud.
At this, Sonja felt a tingle along her shoulders and spine.
"This is impossible," the detective whispered. "We have the ID card and everything."
"My wallet was stolen last week. Clearly, this mystery woman ended up with it," she said.
"But it was you."
Impatiently grabbing the laptop, she turned it toward herself to reveal the body. It was a middle-aged woman who appeared to be a little overweight. "That's not me," she said.
"Oh, my gosh," Charles exclaimed, stepping into the room uninvited.
"Who are you? What are you doing in here?" The detective demanded to know.
"I-I know this woman. At least, I used to. She was an out of towner who came into the bar occasionally."
"You know this woman?" the detective asked.
"Yeah, she was coming around and bothering customers. I kicked her out a number of times and she always cursed me out." He pointed at the sheriff. "Frank had to take her in for disorderly conduct a few times."
Frank began to lean in as well. "Hey, you're right. I remember her now. She was a horrible nightmare to deal with. She always said she'd come back and make us pay for casting her out. Whatever that means."
Charles shook his head. "It wasn't Dan who vandalized my place. It was her."
"Wait a minute. You know who this woman was and didn't say anything this morning?" the detective scolded Frank.
"I didn't think about it until Charles said something."
The detective was shaking his head. "So, what did happen then? What does all of this mean?"
Sonja took this chance to chime in. "I think I know," she said.
"Mrs. Thompson?" the detective sighed.
She reached into her purse and pulled out the candy wrapper. "I think she ate this last night in the woods behind Frank's house. She had a reaction and died." She handed it over to the detective.
"But how did she get into the house? And why?" he retorted.
"To vandalize my place, of course," Frank said in realization. "That explains it."
Satisfied, Sheba leaned back and smiled. "There you go. Now, if you'll kindly take my name off the report, I'd be much obliged."
The detective grumbled a bit as he turned the computer back to himself. "Looks like this was nothing but an accident after all," he admitted under his breath.
*
As Sonja walked down the steps of the police station to the parking lot, the door opened behind her and Frank burst out. "Sonja," he called out.
She stopped and turned back to him. "Looks like things are wrapping up, nicely."
He furrowed his brow as he got close, leaning in to talk quietly. "It isn't wrapped up nicely. None of it makes sense. It was Sheba who talked to us at the garage sale and it was her body in the garage."
She looked up at him, waiting for what she expected him to say next.
He hesitated. "Is there . . . something s
upernatural going on?"
"I can only guess so, yes."
"Well, I don't like it. This whole thing stinks to high heaven."
She nodded her agreement. "And that's why I'm going to do some research. I'll let you know as soon as I figure something out." She tapped his chest. "All that matters now is that the state police feel comfortable enough with how things played out to leave. Then we can start to uncover the real mystery."
Chapter 14
Sonja knew exactly what she needed to do, and the sight of the black cat waiting at the back door of the manor was also proof enough that she was on the right track. Somehow, this animal was related to it all. Not to mention, it seemed to know what was going on.
If only it could talk.
Again, it meowed, sounding more strangely familiar--like a human child. "Okay, cat. What is it that you're trying to show me?" she asked as she pushed the door to the manor open.
A chilly breeze came off the mountain and blew on her back, almost pushing her inside. She knew that summer was already waning. What would the cold months bring this year?
She hoped that they were calm, comfortable, and festive this time around with no horrific hauntings, witches, or murders. Somehow, she felt like their current situation was connected to all three.
And she wasn't holding her breath for the coming seasons. Something sinister seemed to be in the air like someone or something was watching her.
As she closed the door behind her, she tried to concentrate on the moment at hand--and not the possibilities of the future.
The black cat led the way down the stairs and into the kitchen. Entering the pantry behind the animal, Sonja pulled the pot out and pushed her fingers around on the bricks of the wall. Soon, she found the loose one and shoved it in.
The familiar mechanical whir echoed from inside and the door beyond opened.
She wondered how no one had stumbled on this secret passage before. After all, they'd cooked a big Thanksgiving dinner down here. She couldn't help but wonder if it all had something to do with the cat.
Crouching down, she crawled through again, just as she had the night before. Grabbing the flashlight from its spot, she walked down to the end of the musty corridor and opened the door there.
A Very Catty Murder Page 6
