02-A Spirited Tail

by Leighann Dobbs

  Chapter Thirteen

  I had just finished looking Gladys Primble up on the internet when Bing, Hattie, Cordelia and Josiah filed through the door with their Styrofoam to-go cups from The Mystic Cafe in hand.

  "Did you hear the news?" Cordelia's eyes twinkled as she handed me a coffee.

  I raised my brows. "About?"

  "Why Steve Van Dorn, of course," Hattie said. "Turns out I was right."

  Cordelia nodded in agreement. "It almost always comes down to money."

  "Meow!" Pandora frowned up at Cordelia and Hattie.

  "Don't mind her," I said. "She's been acting strange lately. I think she's unsettled because of Ranger."

  Pandora scowled at me, then leapt onto the counter and batted my purple Sharpie around like a hockey player until it rolled off onto the ground. I bent to pick it up. It reminded me of the Copic marker that Steve had—the one that had provided the clue to his guilt.

  Had Pandora been trying to give me a hint all this time?

  I scratched her behind the ear. "It's okay, Pandora, we already figured it out."

  "Figured what out?" Bing scratched his chin.

  "Oh, nothing. Just cat talk."

  "I don't know." Josiah had plunked down in one of the chairs and held his coffee cup on his knee. "It seems like an awfully big risk for money, especially when the house and contents are already worth a lot."

  The door opened and tiny, gray-haired Emma Potts came in. The elderly woman was the church secretary, but also held a much more important position. She was the one who coordinated the feral cat housing and feeding in Mystic Notch.

  I'd been introduced to the gangs of wild cats earlier in the summer and found them charming. Unfortunately, there were many others in town who didn't agree and wanted to stamp them out, no matter how inhumane the method. Needless to say, Emma kept the location of the cattery secret and it was known only to the few volunteers, myself included, who came out to feed and check on the cats.

  "Hi, Emma." Cordelia waved from her position on the purple sofa. "Did you hear the big news about Bruce?"

  "Yes, so terrible, and right here in town." Emma shivered. "It's hard to imagine a killer lurks among us."

  "Not anymore," Josiah said. "Steve Van Dorn's been arrested for it."

  Emma's mouth flew open, then snapped shut. "Steve Van Dorn! No. I don't believe it."

  My brows puckered together in confusion. Bing, Cordelia, Hattie and Josiah mirrored my look. How Did Emma know Steve? Of anyone, Steve Van Dorn would be the most believable, because he was a stranger and obviously benefitting financially, not to mention he had the pen that wrote on Bruce's forehead.

  "Why is that?" Josiah asked.

  "I … well …" Emma looked from me to Hattie to Josiah. "It’s just that he seems so nice and he's a friend of … well … I just don't know."

  And with that she turned and rushed out of the store.

  "Well, I’ll be." Hattie craned her neck to stare at Emma rushing down the sidewalk. "What do you think that was all about?"

  "I don't know." My eyes followed Hattie's. Did Emma know something about the Van Dorns? Maybe she had some information about Charles. She would be about the same age as him. I made a mental note to stop by the cattery later on … I had some cat food donations to drop off anyway.

  "Well, I guess that’s one mystery solved," Bing said. "But now I wonder what will happen to the house and the belongings."

  "Good question." I hadn't thought about that. I'd spent several nights cataloguing that library and with Steve in jail, that effort would be wasted. Not to mention that I might not be allowed back into the house, and I still had questions for Charles.

  "Did you ever find that journal?" Bing's blue eyes drilled into mine and I got the impression the journal had something more important in it than just some instructions for magic tricks.

  "No, but it sure seems to be popular. That must be a really great magic trick in there."

  Bing's eyes sharpened. "Who else was looking for it?"

  "Claire somebody," I leaned over the counter, grabbed the card I'd stuck under the corner of the cash register and glanced at it before handing it to Bing. "Claire Smith-Baker."

  Bing frowned at the card. "I've never heard of her."

  "She came in with Felicity."

  Bing's eyes widened. "Felicity Bates? If she's hanging around with the Bates’ I certainly hope you won't give the journals to her."

  "Why not?"

  "Well, you know …they're bad news. It wouldn’t be in the best interest of … anyone." Bing gave me a look as if I should know what he was talking about. I didn't. My gut told me he was right, I just didn't know why. Anyway, I had no intention of giving the journal to anyone who hung around with Felicity.

  "I don't even know if I’ll be going back there," I said. "If Steve goes to jail, then I'm not sure what will happen to the property."

  "I wonder if it will be closed up for another fifty years," Cordelia mused.

  I wondered that, too. And if so, would Charles’ ghost leave me alone or, now that he had my attention, would he follow me around until I found his killer? I figured it was in my best interest to find out as much as I could about whom he hung around with back then. "Bing, did you hang around with Charles back in the day?"

  "Well, I wouldn’t say I hung around with him. I did a lot of traveling back then so I wasn't in town much. But, of course, I knew him since we were in similar businesses." He narrowed his eyes at me. "Why do you ask?"

  I shrugged, trying to seem like it wasn't that big of a deal. "Oh, no reason. I'm just curious about the man. He had an interesting taste in books."

  "Well, if you really want to know about him, you should ask Elspeth," Hattie said.

  "Yes, she was quite friendly with that crowd back then, as I recall." Cordelia added.

  "Oh, I was planning on checking in with her anyway."

  "Well, don't go today." Hattie chugged the rest of her coffee and stood. "She's going to Noquitt, Maine, to visit some great grand-nieces of hers. Won't be back 'til tomorrow."

  "I didn't know she had family in Maine," I said.

  "Yes, I guess they are distant relatives, but Elspeth said they had some sort of family tragedy … an aunt died or something and she wanted to go back and make sure the girls were okay. Something about passing on some family traditions or knowledge."

  "Well, I guess this whole thing with Steve Van Dorn is going to be good for that writer." I headed behind the counter, hoping the four of them would get the hint. I needed to get some work done if I was going to close up shop to visit Gladys Primble.

  "Writer?" Hattie and Cordelia wrinkled their gray brows at me as they brushed cat hair from their matching, purple polyester pantsuits. They usually knew everything that was going on in town and I was surprised they didn't know a writer was visiting.

  "Yeah, I guess he's writing a book on the Van Dorn curse. He's the son of some journalist who used to write publicity stuff for Charles Van Dorn."

  "Oh, that must be the stranger staying out at the Moonlight Motel." Josiah slid his eyes over to Hattie and Cordelia, a sly, satisfied look on his face.

  As former postmaster, he still kept in touch with all the goings-on in town and was almost as knowledgeable as Hattie and Cordelia. Sometimes, it even seemed like they had an ongoing contest to see who could be the first one to find out the new gossip.

  Hattie frowned at Josiah. "I didn't hear about any stranger at the motel. Did you, sister?"

  Cordelia shook her head, eyeing Josiah suspiciously. "No."

  "Yep, it's true. I was down there just last night with Vern Bosch and Frank Delaney. We have a standing poker game with Mabel and Bert. Anyway, they mentioned this stranger who didn't follow the typical tourist pattern—you know, the type that goes out sightseeing and hiking. This guy just mostly stays in his room. I bet that’s your writer guy."

  Bing chuckled at the look on Cordelia and Hattie's face. "Looks like the Mystic Notch grapevine has a break in
it."

  Hattie and Cordelia exchanged a glance.

  "Well, I guess we need to get down to the beauty salon and find out where the problem is." The two women power walked to the door while Bing and Josiah stood up.

  "I hope you get back in that library, Willa. I sure would like to get that journal … and I hope you'll steer clear of this Claire person," Bing said.

  "I gotta mosey along, too." Josiah rubbed his chin. "You know, there's somethin' bothers me about this Steve Van Dorn guy being the killer. I mean, it's an awful big risk and he was already going to be wealthy even without this new interest in the curse. Just seems like an unnecessary risk to take."

  Pandora flicked a few more pens off the counter and I made a mental note to get a new penholder as I watched the four of them leave. A hollow feeling settled on my stomach. Something bothered me about Steve killing Bruce, too. I glanced down at Ranger who was sleeping soundly next to the couch. I remembered how protective he'd been of Bruce's body when the police had arrived.

  He hadn't growled at me and had even let me approach, but I assumed that was because he sensed I was an animal lover and meant no harm. It was only when the police wanted to mess around with the body that he got protective. Which made me wonder, if he got that protective over the police touching the body, why hadn't he attacked Steve when he'd killed his master?

  ***

  Gladys Primble lived in a modest house off Forest Road. I didn't know what to expect as I pulled into her driveway, but I certainly wasn't expecting to see the seventy-year-old woman chopping a pile of wood in the back yard.

  I approach warily, watching her muscled arms flex under her plain, gray tee shirt. She was pretty buff for an old lady.

  Gladys noticed me and turned, a frown creasing her face. "Help you?"

  I pasted on a friendly smile. "Hi. I'm Willa Chance … Owner of Chance Books."

  "Mew." I looked down at the most unusual cat I'd ever seen. It was a bright ginger color with long wavy fur. I'd never seen fur like that on a cat. It looked more like lamb’s wool than cat hair.

  "Oh, that’s Euphoria, she's a Selkirk Rex." Gladys bent down and the cat trotted over to her, submitting to a few scratches behind the ear before she feigned disinterest, turning her attention to the logs of wood.

  Gladys stood and brushed cat hair off her white painter's pants. "Anyway, what can I help you with?"

  "Well, I've been commissioned to catalogue the library of Charles Van Dorn and was wondering if I could ask you a few questions. I heard you used to be his housekeeper." My cheeks burned and my mouth felt dry. I was never good at telling lies. Of course, I wasn't actually lying; what I'd said was true. I just neglected to add in the part about how Steve was in jail and I probably had no business with the Van Dorn library anymore.

  Her eyes sparked at the mention of Charles Van Dorn and she narrowed them at me. "Cataloguing his library? … I thought the contents of the house were held up in some issue with his brother or something."

  "Oh, it was, but the brother died and the estate passed to Charles' nephew."

  Her eyes widened. "You don't say! When did this happen? I'm afraid I don't get TV or newspapers here and I don't go into town much. We're pretty self-sufficient."

  "The new owner flew in a couple of days ago and opened the house. He's already sold some of the contents."

  Gladys cheek ticked. She took a red and black bandana out of her back pocket and wiped her brow with shaky hands.

  "I guess you and Mr. Van Dorn must have been very close."

  Her brow creased. "Why do you say that?"

  "I found a photo album and you look quite friendly in the pictures. Actually, he had quite a lot of pictures of you in there, which is pretty unusual. I mean, people don't usually have a lot of photos of their housekeepers in the family photo albums, do they?" I shrugged. "That’s why I figured you guys were so close."

  More sweat beaded on her brow and she swiped at it with the hanky. Her eyes darted around the yard.

  "Yes, I guess you could say we were close. Now if you'll excuse me, I just realized I'm late for an appointm—."

  "Hey, Ma—" A tall, thin man with graying hair came careening around the corner, looking from Gladys to me inquisitively. "Oh, sorry. Didn't realize you had company."

  "This is Willa Chance from the bookstore downtown." Gladys waved a hand at me. "She was just leaving."

  "Oh? What does she want?" The man looked down at his mother who simply turned him around and pushed him toward the house.

  "Sorry, Willa," she shot over her shoulder. "Maybe we can talk some other time, but right now I'm late."

  And with that, she shut the door just as the curly orange cat slipped inside through the crack.

  I walked back to my car feeling somewhat dejected. I hadn't found out much about her relationship with Van Dorn, but I had discovered one thing. After Gladys found out Van Dorn's house was for sale, she was pretty eager to get rid of me, which made me wonder … did Gladys Primble have something to hide?

  Chapter Fourteen

  I was still thinking about Gladys’s odd behavior as I bent down to put the key in the lock of my bookstore. A swirl of snowy white and pale green material caught my eye, and I looked up in time to see the gauzy skirts of two dresses disappearing around the corner to the alley—Felicity and Claire.

  "That’s it, I've had enough!" I ran to the mouth of the alley to tell them off, but the alley was empty. They must have run the length of the alley and were already out onto the other street. If it had just been Felicity, I might have considered that she'd made the quick getaway by flying off on her broomstick, but my jury was still out on Claire.

  "I know you guys are following me and I want you to stop now!" I yelled into the empty alley, then trudged back to open my shop.

  Pandora and Ranger eyed me lazily as I unlocked the bookstore and opened for the afternoon's business.

  "I'm glad Steve got arrested, but that means I won't be able to go to Van Dorn's to talk to Charles," I said out loud. "And it makes me wonder what will happen to the house now."

  "Mew." Pandora stretched in her cat bed, her back humped like a horseshoe.

  "Maybe I don't need to find Charles' killer at all. I mean, he hasn’t bothered me in a few days and I don't think he'd venture from the mansion."

  Pandora leapt onto the counter, staring at me with her greenish-gold eyes as if she was hanging on my every word.

  "And really, who cares about a fifty-year-old murder, anyway? The important thing is that I helped find Bruce Norton's killer."

  "Meow!" Pandora shot her paw out, knocking several pens to the floor.

  "Okay, well, if you were giving me hints about the pen—which I'm not convinced you were—you can stop now because we caught the guy."

  She swatted more pens to the floor.

  "Sure, I get it. You want me to keep investigating Charles' murder." I bent down and picked up the pens. "I do have to admit, I am curious as to who did it. My money is on Gladys."

  "Meow!" Pandora head butted my chin.

  "You, too? But what I really want to know is what is in that journal everyone seems to be looking for."

  "Brrill." Pandora made a vibrating meowing noise.

  "But I guess that will probably stay locked away at the Van Dorn Mansion for another fifty years. If only Charles was here so I could ask him."

  "You rang?"

  The voice startled me and I dropped the pens, whirling around to see none other than Charles Van Dorn's ghost proving that he did, in fact, leave the mansion, which probably didn't bode well for me.

  "So there you are. Where were you when I had questions?" I bent to retrieve the pens again.

  "Sorry, I was off in the nethers. But don't you worry. I'm going to be close by your side from now on … at least until you solve my murder. I have a very good reason now to pass to the other side."

  "Oh? And what might that be?"

  He wagged his finger at me. "Never you mind. You just focus on
finding out who killed me. Do you have any leads?"

  Pandora jumped to the floor, batting at the swirling mist flowing around Charles' feet. He glanced down with a smile, then bent down to pet her, his hand passing right through her and causing her to shiver. Ranger seemed oblivious to the whole interaction, making me wonder if other animals could see ghosts, or if it was a talent only Pandora possessed.

  I watched him pet the cat and wondered if he was the type to have two lovers. Maybe he had been having a fling with both Lily and Gladys and Gladys had found out and killed them both.

  "I might have a couple of leads," I said. "Like maybe it was a jealous lover."

  Charles bolted up from his crouched position, looking rather indignant. "What? I never!"

  "I found the love letters."

  His face, usually an opaque swirly white color, turned pink.

  "Those are not what you think," he sputtered.

  "You don't think your secret lover could have killed you?"

  "No."

  "Was there some sort of lover’s triangle with you, Lily and someone else?"

  "Certainly not!" Charles boomed. "Lily did have someone interested in her, though … a secret admirer of sorts, but not the kind anyone would want to have. This one sent her creepy letters and notes. That’s who I think killed her. In fact, I was gathering my evidence when I was killed, probably by the same person!"

  "Or maybe someone was jealous of your attention to her and killed you both," I interjected. "A spurned lover, perhaps?"

  "What? I didn't have any spurned lover."

  "What about Gladys Primble?"

  "Gladys? She was married, for goodness sake."

  "All the more reason to keep it hush, hush," I pointed out.

  "You think I had an affair with Gladys and she killed me?"

  I shrugged. It was a good theory and there were several reasons that Gladys fit the bill. They could have had a lover’s quarrel. Maybe he paid too much attention to Lily and she got mad?