Ghostly Paws (Mystic Notch Cozy Mystery Series)

by Leighann Dobbs

  I frowned at my coffee. He sure looked okay when I saw him rushing down the road. Then again, maybe he was rushing to the doctor’s office.

  “Did you find out any more about those bronzes?” Hattie asked.

  “No. You?”

  She shook her head. “Some of the old-timers remember them being donated, but no one knew they were valuable.”

  I caught a glimpse of Pandora trotting over to the biography row and watched her swat at the mist out of the corner of my eye.

  “I was going to close up early today and check them out at the library before I headed out to Lavinia’s funeral,” I said.

  “Good idea.” Hattie nodded. “I’m sure the police must be looking at them by now.”

  “We don’t even know if the police know about them.” Cordelia turned to me. “Did you mention them to Augusta?”

  I shook my head.

  “Not yet.” I’d been too busy snooping around in Ophelia’s house.

  “Well, you probably have work to do seeing as it’s a short day, and I have to get home and start getting spiffed up for the funeral.” Josiah started toward the door.

  “Come on, sister. We need to get some tea over at Pepper’s and then take a little nap before we go to Lavinia’s service.” Cordelia grabbed Hattie’s elbow and they followed Josiah to the door.

  Josiah opened it and gestured for the ladies to precede him. They stepped through, then turned back to me. “See you there, Willa.”

  I nodded and waved, then the three of them spilled out onto the street and the door shut, leaving me alone in the store. Well, alone as far as earthly inhabitants go, that is.

  The swirling mist at the end of the biography row glided toward me, slowly forming into the shape of Lavinia. “So, you’re going to my funeral?”

  “Of course. The killer might be there. Maybe I can pick her out.”

  “Her?”

  “My money is on Ophelia, although I have to admit I still can’t figure out her motive.”

  “Oh yes, you found that blue cape. I remember that cape, now that you mention it. She used to wear that out a lot with Pete.” Lavinia leaned in toward me. “Haven’t seen her wear it since he died.”

  “So? You’re not trying to tell me she wouldn’t have been wearing it, are you?”

  Lavinia shrugged. “I just think you might have blinders on here. Maybe you should consider some other suspects.”

  “I don’t have any other suspects.”

  “Because you haven’t been looking. It’s never good to focus on one thing. Besides, my feeling is there may be more to this than meets the eye.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “Maybe there are other forces at work.”

  “Other forces?” I scrunched up my face at her. Now she was starting to sound like Elspeth.

  “Oh bother,” Lavinia waved her hand in the air, making a swirly trail of misty goo that hung suspended for a few seconds before falling to the ground and evaporating. “What other clues do you have?”

  “Well, Ophelia did say she saw a long, dark car speeding away from town that morning.” My leg was starting to throb, so I turned back toward the front of the store where I kept a tube of Iced Fire. Lavinia floated along beside me, Pandora at her heels.

  “See? Now, that’s a clue you should be looking into.” Lavinia suggested. “And what about the bronzes?”

  “You know about those?”

  “I overheard you talking about them yesterday. I had forgotten all about them until you mentioned them. They’re downstairs, just like you said.”

  “How many are there?”

  “Four. At first we had them on display upstairs, but then people’s tastes changed and Western stuff wasn’t as popular. We moved them downstairs decades ago,” Lavinia said. “Do you think I stumbled across someone trying to steal them and they did me in?”

  “Maybe.” I plopped onto the sofa, then pulled up the leg of my jeans and rubbed some Iced Fire on my leg. Pandora came over to investigate, sniffed at my leg, yowled and ran to the back of the store.

  Lavinia laughed. “That is a rather potent smell.”

  “Yeah, but it works wonders.”

  Two misty figures materialized before us—Franklin Pierce and Robert Frost—and they were both holding their noses.

  “Iced fire? Will the world end in fire or ice? I know not, but either way I hope it doesn’t smell like that,” Frost said, pointing down at the tube.

  Pierce and Lavinia burst out laughing at the poetry reference. I didn’t think it was so funny. Did I really smell that bad?

  “I heard you talking about bronzes, and I do say some are quite valuable.” Franklin Pierce looked at us importantly. “In fact, I could boast that there were a few bronze busts made of me in my day.”

  “That’s right,” Lavinia said. “We have one in the library.”

  “I’ve had one or two made of me as well,” Frost said, not to be outdone. “In fact, mine was so valuable it was stolen from its spot at Wichita State University some years back.”

  Pierce narrowed his ghostly eyes at Frost. “I heard that was a drunken prank.”

  Frost shrugged. “Whatever. Anyway, I dare say the scoundrel that killed Lavinia might have been after those bronzes. Money makes people do strange things.”

  Pierce nodded. “On that, I concur.”

  “Your theory on the bronzes could be a good one,” Lavinia said. “But I don’t think Ophelia would be breaking into the library to steal them. It’s just not her style.”

  I had to admit, Lavinia was right about that. But I wanted to continue thinking it was Ophelia. Mostly because I didn’t like her and if the killer turned out to be her then I wouldn’t feel bad. Plus I had some good clues pointing to her and I knew there was a secret between her and Lavinia … that secret might be the true motive.

  On the other hand, maybe I had been ignoring other clues because I’d been so focused on Ophelia. Bing had been acting strangely … did his odd behavior have anything to do with Lavinia’s death? I certainly hoped not. Bing had been almost like a grandfather to me for as long as I could remember. I’d much rather the killer ended up being Ophelia.

  And what about the weird thing with Barry this morning? It had looked like Bing was driving away from his house. Barry thought someone had been looking in the box of books … but what would books have to do with anything?

  I looked up and realized all three ghosts were staring at me expectantly.

  “I plan to go to the library and see if the bronzes are there before I go to your funeral,” I said to Lavinia.

  “That sounds like a good idea,” she replied. “But don’t be so focused on one path that you are blind to the others.”

  “That’s right.” Robert winked at me. “Sometimes it’s best to take the path less traveled.”

  “Well, I think we should be off.” Lavinia linked her arms through the two men’s elbows. “Shall we?”

  They both nodded and the three of them disappeared, leaving me sitting on the sofa, blinking at nothing.

  “Wait.” The word tripped off my lips and fell into the silent room. I had wanted to ask Lavinia about the candles in the church, but she’d disappeared too fast.

  I waved my hands at the empty space in frustration. I had been so sure the killer was Ophelia, but Lavinia had sprinkled my thoughts with doubt, and now I had to take some of the other clues more seriously.

  That didn’t mean I was going to drop Ophelia off the suspect list, though. I was still going to tell Augusta about that blue cape just as soon as I could. In the meantime, I’d just have to broaden my investigation to include some of the other clues … even if it meant investigating an old friend.

  Chapter Seventeen

  More clouds had rolled in while I was in the bookstore and the somber atmosphere in the library echoed the weather outside. Lavinia’s assistant, Myrtle, who, I supposed, was the new head librarian, sat mournful and lonely behind the big rounded desk.

 
I found myself thinking that if Myrtle did get the head librarian position, then she had benefitted from Lavinia’s death. Standing in the doorway, I studied the short, bespectacled octogenarian. She must have weighed all of eighty pounds and I doubted she had enough strength to push Lavinia, never mind smash her on the head with the embosser. She was too short. And anyway, who would kill someone over a librarian job?

  I walked into the library, nodding at Myrtle as I passed by. I’d changed into my wrinkle-free black dress and it swirled just above my knees while my heels made clickity-clack noises on the marble floor as I walked toward the back. I noticed the flag was at half-mast and Pierce’s bust was draped with a black band. Apparently, they were taking Lavinia’s death hard here.

  I turned the corner to the back steps and a chill ran up my spine as I remembered finding Lavinia crumpled at the bottom of them. I hesitated a second, picturing the scene.

  “Go on down,” a voice whispered, startling me and almost sent me falling down the stairs. It was Lavinia swirling beside me. Why hadn’t I just sent her over to look for the bronzes and saved myself a trip? She nodded pointedly at the stairs and I started down.

  Stepping gingerly down the stone stairs, I turned right at the landing and walked into the main library area, my footsteps growing silent as the hard stone floor changed to carpeting.

  The bottom floor of the library was like a maze. Tightly packed rows of ten-foot high bookshelves were laid out with barely three feet of aisle space between them. There were various sections and rooms off the main room that one could wander into. It seemed always to be void of other humans and entombed in silence—the massive amount of books and carpeted flooring absorbed most of the noise. I’d gotten lost down there more than once.

  “Where are they?” I whispered to Lavinia. My question was met with silence.

  I looked beside me, then turned to look behind me, scanning for any sign of a ghost. Nothing … not a faint swirl of mist … not even a drop of condensation. Figures she’d disappear when I needed her most.

  I decided to do the search methodically, row by row. The most likely place to display the bronzes was at the end of the rows or in one of the many alcoves, so moving along the perimeter would be my best choice.

  I turned left, then walked to the end of the row where I was met with another row of books.

  “Okay, maybe the bronzes are at the other end,” I said softly, just in case Lavinia was listening and might offer her help.

  I started down the row, then noticed a little alcove off to the left. “Is it here?” I whispered.

  I took the sharp corner and almost jumped out of my shiny black pumps. Standing in front of me was Sheriff Eddie Striker … and he didn’t look happy.

  ***

  “Were you talking to someone?” Striker’s gray eyes drilled into mine, then shifted to look behind me.

  “Me? No.” He was standing in front of a two-foot square alcove indented in the wall. I tried to peer around his wide chest to see what was in the alcove and caught sight of a mahogany pedestal … was a bronze on top of it?

  “What are you doing here?” he asked.

  “What are you?” My hands fisted on my hips and my brows dipped in an angry V. I felt like we’d been through this routine before. At least he wasn’t pointing a gun at me this time.

  His lips curled in that annoying half-smile and butterflies flittered in my stomach. I suddenly felt glad I’d made an attempt to tame my hair, and then immediately admonished myself for feeling that way. What did I care about looking good?

  “Don’t tell me you were coming here to borrow a book dressed like that.” His gaze wandered from my face, down my body to my shoes and back up, lingering in some places longer than others.

  I crossed my arms over my chest, feeling self-conscious about my clingy dress and scarred leg. At least the leg wasn’t one of the parts where his gaze had lingered. It started to ache as if it knew I was thinking about it and I shifted my weight onto my right leg.

  “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

  “Nothing,” he shrugged. “But I don’t think you got all dressed up to borrow a book. You’re up to something and my detective skills tell me you’re here for the same reason I am.”

  “Oh? And what’s that?”

  Striker stepped aside to reveal what was on top of the pedestal … a bronze statue of a cowboy on a bucking bronco in amazing detail. It was a deep chocolate color and I knew if I touched it, it would feel silky, but hard and cold. Which was exactly the same way Striker was looking at me right now.

  “There are four of them,” I blurted out.

  “I know. They’re all here.”

  “Are they really that valuable?” I asked.

  “I just had an expert here and he said only one is original, but even the recasts are worth thousands.” Striker glanced back at the bronze. “The library is moving them out today and putting them somewhere more secure.”

  “How did you find out about them?”

  “Probably the same way you did. I’m investigating the case and got a lead. But see, there’s a difference between me investigating and you investigating.” He paused and fixed me with a serious look. “I’m a cop and you’re not. So you shouldn’t be following up on leads.”

  “I’m just curious by nature,” I said weakly. “So you think someone was trying to steal the bronzes and Lavinia stumbled onto them?”

  Striker shrugged. “That’s one possible motive. But seeing as the bronzes are still here, it’s not likely.”

  I frowned at the statue. “Why not?”

  “Don’t you think the thief would have grabbed at least one of them after going to all the trouble of clobbering Lavinia?”

  “But what if he got scared off? Maybe he didn’t have time.” Maybe I had scared him off when I came into the library. An icy chill ran up my spine when I realized I might have suffered the same fate as Lavinia.

  “Maybe.” Striker sniffed the air. “Do you smell peppermint?”

  I thought of the Iced Fire I’d doused my leg in at the bookstore and felt my cheeks grow warm. I shook my head and he frowned at the air.

  “So, what other motives are you looking at?” I asked innocently.

  Striker disarmed me with a full smile this time. It was the first time I’d seen him smile and I realized it was quite charming.

  “Oh, no … you can’t get information out of me that easily.” He shook his head at me. “Besides I don’t want you running around investigating the other motives.”

  “I don’t need you to give me leads.” I tilted my chin up. “I have some of my own.”

  “I was afraid you were going to say that. I hope I don’t have to arrest you to keep you out of trouble.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him, not knowing if he was joking or serious. He couldn’t actually arrest me, could he?

  “I don’t think Augusta would keep me in jail.” The truth was I wasn’t sure that she wouldn’t keep me in jail—she’d warned me many times about investigating.

  Striker laughed, and I was annoyed to discover his laugh was actually pleasant. “I think your sister would agree. She doesn’t want you getting caught up in anything that might get you hurt. It’s funny—your last name suits you to a tee.”

  “How’s that?”

  “You take a lot of chances … unfortunately those chances could end up getting you hurt.”

  I almost melted a little at the concern in Striker’s eyes, but I really hated it when people tried to tell me what to do and I was more than a little annoyed that it was probably true that my own sister would let me sit in jail.

  “Well, maybe if you and Augusta could find the real killer, I wouldn’t feel the need to take those chances,” I said haughtily then swung around and started to walk away.

  “Hey, Chance,” he called after me, and I half-turned looking over my shoulder at him.

  “What?”

  “You look nice.”

  I spun back away from him, my h
eart fluttering at the compliment. Okay, maybe he was being sarcastic, but he’d actually seemed sincere.

  It wasn’t like me to get all flustered when someone complimented me, and that made me mad. Should I say something? I couldn’t think of a snappy comeback, so I focused on keeping my eyes straight ahead while I walked away.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Outside the library, the weather had turned downright gloomy. Dark clouds hung overhead and the air had turned chilly. The street was dry, but it smelled like rain.

  I had a few minutes to kill before Lavinia’s service, so I decided to pop in and visit Pepper at The Tea Room.

  The smell of herbal tea and cookies hit me as soon as I opened the door to Pepper’s shop. The color scheme of light greens, pink and turquoise brightened the room, making me forget about the dismal weather outside. The scroll designs of the white cafe tables and chairs added whimsy to the old-fashioned setting. Petite chandeliers glittered from the ceiling, dazzling the room with soft light. The tables boasted crisp white tablecloths and napkins made from vintage fabric.

  Pepper stood behind the counter at the far end of the shop. Behind her, a wide, tall shelf was stacked with various jars and bags, adorned with ribbons and filled with herbal tea.

  Pepper greeted me with a smile and I started toward her, doing a double take when the person she’d been waiting on turned around.

  Ophelia Withington.

  I hesitated. Did I really want to talk to Ophelia? Pepper and Ophelia both stared at me expectantly and I realized I didn’t have much choice. I slowed my pace, not so eager to get to the counter anymore.

  “Hi, Willa,” Pepper greeted me cheerfully.

  Ophelia smiled at me. “Willa, so nice to see you again.”

  I raised a brow at her. It was?

  The two other ladies turned their attention back to the purchase Ophelia was making. My gut twinged as I noticed they were laughing it up like old friends. Pepper put the purchase, which looked like a bunch of dried up leaves, twigs and sticks, into a crisp white paper bag stamped with the gold logo of The Tea Room and handed it across the counter to Ophelia, who grabbed the two sturdy twine handles and turned to leave.