A Mew to a Kill

by Leighann Dobbs

  The cats shuddered. None of them liked the thought of being cooped up inside.

  “I think this is something we must pursue,” Inkspot commanded. Pandora thought she heard Otis make a tsking sound from his perch above her.

  “Who agrees we should seek out this cat?” Inkspot continued with only a slight glare in Otis’s direction.

  A chorus of meows sounded in agreement

  “Then we must go to this Brenda’s house and see what we can see.” Inkspot trained his glowing eyes on Pandora. “You will find out where she lives.”

  “Yes, of course.” Pandora’s heart leapt. She’d felt a tug for this kitten ever since she heard the story and knew they must find her. She wished she’d paid more attention when the humans were talking, though, because if she had, she might know more about Brenda and where she lived. But the humans were so boring, droning on and on. She rarely listened to them.

  But now she had a problem. She’d brought the idea to the group and now couldn’t admit she didn’t know how to follow through. It would be embarrassing and the last thing she needed was to give Otis more ammunition he could use to try to make her look foolish.

  As she looked up at the smirk on Otis’ face, she wondered how the heck she was going to find out who this Brenda person was and where she lived. She said a silent prayer that Bastet, the goddess of cats, would provide the answer. She made a mental promise to pay more attention to the humans from here on out.

  Inkspot faded back into a corner, signaling the end of the meeting, and the other cats went back to their naps. Pandora recognized her cue to leave. She turned and trotted toward the door, flicking her tail up in the air, the kink pointed out like a middle finger and aimed directly at Otis on the way out.

  ***

  Pandora was waiting for me at the edge of the path when I left Elspeth’s. We walked back together, my mind whirling with possibilities. Could Paisley’s mysterious brother be the killer? Why did he live in a homeless shelter? Were he and Paisley on speaking terms? And what about Neil Lane? Was he mad enough to kill?

  I put my hands in my pockets and my fingertips brushed against the charm. I debated whether or not to tell Gus and Striker about it. Probably best to keep it to myself for now. I didn’t want to send them in Maisie’s direction. It was ridiculous to think the old woman had killed Paisley.

  Back home, I got busy in the kitchen, feeding Pandora and making a snack out of apples, peanut butter and marshmallow fluff. My leg started to throb, letting me know that I had probably overdone it.

  I took my snack into the living room to relax. Flopping down on the couch, I rested my leg up on the coffee table to ease the pain. Reaching down, I massaged the knot of muscle in my calf and found myself wishing Striker didn’t have to work late. He gave great massages.

  “Meow.” Pandora jumped up on the couch beside me, eyeing my snack.

  I put a little fluff on my finger and held it out to her. She sniffed it for what seemed like five minutes before turning her nose up and giving me a funny look. She turned to leave, then did a double-take, jerking her head in the direction of the middle of the coffee table.

  I followed her gaze and noticed the glass orb on the coffee table, a gift from Elspeth, was reflecting light from the kitchen. It must have caught the light just right and was glowing an iridescent yellow. Pandora seemed mesmerized by it. She leaped up onto the table, meowing loudly and staring into its depths.

  “You won’t find anything good in there,” I said to her.

  “Merow!” She sounded like she disagreed.

  I ignored her and went back to my line of thinking. My suspect list was growing and I needed to question Neil and Paisley’s brother. What motives would her brother have had, though? I could see Neil’s motives now that Elspeth had mentioned it. He had twenty grand to lose. I knew he was reputed to be reclusive and unsociable, but was he a killer?

  And what about the brother? Why did he live in a homeless shelter? Were he and Paisley in contact with each other, or had they had a falling out?

  I thought back to the events of the day. I hadn’t gotten any clues by watching them investigate the crime scene out my window. Gus and Striker had been less than helpful, but Jimmy had mentioned something about a final picture that Paisley took. Had she gotten off a shot of her killer?

  What I really wanted was to prove that George did it. I had a pretty strong feeling about him which reminded me that we needed to get into Paisley’s house. We might be able to find those pictures which would incriminate George and there might be other evidence in there as well. We needed to talk to Opal—she might know something useful. Maybe she even had a spare key to Paisley’s place, just like I had to Pepper's. Hopefully, she would be willing to cooperate with us once we told her we were trying to help find her friend’s killer.

  I limped back into the kitchen to get my phone and was happy to discover a text from Pepper.

  Got a lead on Opal u free tmrw night at 8?

  I happily thumbed my reply. Yep.

  Tomorrow night couldn’t come soon enough.

  Chapter Nine

  The next day, I went in early hoping to question Paisley’s ghost about her brother. I was rearranging the books in the fashion section, waiting for her to pop in when Bing, Josiah, Hattie and Cordelia came in.

  “Hi, Willa.” Hattie peeked down the aisle and waved at me. I noticed she was wearing a light blue flowered shirt and old lady jeans. She lifted a Styrofoam cup. “We brought coffee for you.”

  I trotted to the front, joining them on the sofas. Hattie leaned in front of Cordelia, who was wearing a matching flowered shirt in pink and identical old lady jeans, to slide the cup across the coffee table toward me.

  “Any news on the goings-on across the street?” Bing asked.

  I shook my head, peeling back the plastic tab on the cover of the Styrofoam cup and taking a sip. “Nope. What’s the word on the grapevine?” I raised my brows at Hattie and Cordelia.

  Like most small towns, Mystic Notch had a rather active grapevine and my regulars, especially the Deering sisters, were right in the middle of it.

  “We haven’t heard a thing.” Hattie looked disappointed. “We were hoping you might know something.”

  “Unfortunately, I don’t know anything about the fire or Paisley’s death. But I did find out something interesting last night. Did you know Paisley had a brother?”

  “A brother?” Hattie turned to look at Cordelia. “Did you know that, Sister?”

  Cordelia shook her head. “No. Paisley hasn’t been in town that long, so I don’t know her family. She’s a newcomer.”

  Bing’s bushy brows knit together. “Wait a minute. I think I remember meeting her brother at the veterans’ meeting. Ken is his name. He was in the army. As I recall, he was affected terribly by the war. PTSD. I don’t know much about him, though. He didn’t seem like he was going to stick around town.”

  “Elspeth said he was in the homeless shelter.” My heart clenched. I hated myself for suspecting him. He was a military veteran, for crying out loud.

  Cordelia’s forehead wrinkled. “I think I remember something about him and that fire last year. The one during the Founder’s Day parade. I think he was a suspect for a while, but it turned out it wasn’t him.”

  Bing nodded. “That’s right. He worked at the lumberyard and was chummy with Amanda.”

  “You don’t think the brother had something to do with it, do you?” Josiah asked as if he could read my mind. “What motive would he have? Unless maybe he likes to light fires.”

  “I don’t know. That brings up a good question. What was the motive?”

  Hattie glanced over at the photography store. “Well, George Witt might have had a motive. If he wanted to keep Paisley quiet.”

  “That’s right. We heard you tell Gus you saw George and Paisley arguing and … well …” Cordelia’s cheeks flushed. “Practically everyone in town knows there was something going on between them.”

  “And let�
��s not forget about Neil Lane,” Bing added. “He might have had a motive.”

  “Yeah, money,” Josiah said. “He needs it.”

  “How do you know that?” I wondered.

  “I was in the post office yesterday playing checkers with Minot Ring and Neil pulled up in that clunker of his. It was making some strange noises, grinding and then making a cha-chug. Sounded like Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. I was surprised he could start it up when he left. Anyway, I reckon he needs money to fix that car. That twenty thousand dollar grand prize would probably be like a million to him.”

  I made a mental note to talk to Pepper and see if she wanted to pay a little visit to Neil Lane. “How did he seem? What was he doing there?”

  “He was checking his post office box.” Josiah twisted his lips. “He’s kind of an odd duck, anyway, but now that you mention it, he did seem right upset. He dropped the post office box key several times and was cussing like crazy about it. Out of sorts, even for him.”

  “I’d watch out for him, Willa,” Cordelia warned. “He might be dangerous.”

  “Yeah, don’t go getting any ideas about confronting him,” Hattie said.

  I sipped my coffee to avoid replying.

  Bing stood and tossed his cup into the trash. “Well, until we know a little bit more about what really happened and how Paisley died, we’re just speculating. We don’t have enough information to come up with any ideas much less question potential suspects.” He looked at me. “Which you shouldn’t be doing, anyway. This stuff is best left to the police.”

  The others finished their coffee and stood up. Bing was right, but not about leaving stuff to the police—I needed to find out more about the crime. I needed a solid clue. If I knew more about the fire, I might be able to piece it together better. There was one person who was there that morning and might have more information–Myrna.

  ***

  Paisley still hadn’t showed up by lunchtime and I was getting annoyed. I locked up, promising Pandora some tuna if she didn’t wreck the place, and headed went down to the Mystic Café. It was bustling with customers. Myrna was behind the counter. I stepped up and ordered a tuna on rye with extra pickles and Myrna scribbled it on a pad with her number two pencil and slapped it onto a metal revolving holder which she turned to face Bud in the kitchen.

  “You got a minute?” I gave Myrna my most pleading look.

  She sighed and shoved the order pad into the pocket of her vintage, cherry-patterned apron. “I guess I could spare a few. But not too long, I got a lot of customers.” She jerked her head toward the hallway that led to the back door of the shop and I followed her.

  I got right to the point. “Striker said you called in the fire down at Paisley’s.”

  Myrna’s right brow ticked up. “Yeah. When I came into work yesterday, I noticed the smoke.”

  “That must have been scary. What time was that?”

  Myrna puckered her cherry red lips together and tapped the eraser end of her pencil on them. “Well, I usually get in around five. I didn’t see anything at first. There were no flames, but when I went out back to the dumpster, I noticed smoke billowing from down that way.

  I stepped outside the door and looked down toward the photography shop. From where I stood, I could see the backs of the shops that lined this side of Main Street. Each of them had a small parking lot and a dumpster. One of the shops had a fence around their lot, obscuring the view to Paisley’s lot. If the killer had been lurking in back of Paisley’s, Myrna wouldn’t have been able to see him. “Did you see anyone or notice anything unusual?”

  “Not really. I couldn’t see much, just the smoke. And I heard her alarm.”

  “There was an alarm?”

  “Yeah. I mean, all the shops have to have them, right. Except hers sounded weird. I think it was broken because it just made a chug-chug noise. Sounded like that car in the movies that my kids liked a long time ago.”

  I felt a tingle of excitement. “You mean Chitty Chitty Bang Bang”?

  Her face lit up. “Yeah, that’s the one. But it didn’t last long. It kind of faded off after a bit.”

  “Did you see anyone hanging around or pass anyone while you were driving in to work?”

  “Striker asked me the same thing. I don’t remember passing any cars. I’m sure I would remember because that time of morning is pretty dead around here.” She blanched, then shrugged. “Sorry, bad choice of words.”

  It was true. No one drove around downtown at five in the morning. Myrna was the only one who came in early to set up for the breakfast crowd. She probably would have noticed pretty easily if anyone was around. The killer must have already set the fire and left by then … or been driving away in his Chitty Chitty Bang Bang car just as she was noticing the smoke.

  Bud poked his head in the hallway and yelled, “Tuna on rye!”

  “I guess that’s my cue. I’ll let you get back to work.”

  I was turning to go out to the front to get my sandwich and pay when Myrna stopped me. “You know, there was something odd I noticed that morning and I didn’t think of it until just now.”

  “What was that?”

  “When I was driving into town, I passed Witt Realty and noticed there was a light on inside that old chicken coop they use for storage. Which is strange because the parking lot was empty. I figured someone must have left the lights on and I got a good chuckle at how mad George was gonna be. You know what a miser he is. He’s pretty strict about making sure the lights are all off at night.”

  “Is that odd for them to have a light on that early?”

  “Oh, sure. George doesn’t open up until nine or ten. There’s no way he’d be in that early.”

  ***

  I hurried back to the bookstore, excited about what I’d found out from Myrna. I texted Pepper and we agreed to close up our shops early and head out to Neil Lane’s before going over to talk to Opal. I debated whether we should make a stop at George’s office on the way.

  The real estate office was an old converted farmhouse. The original outbuildings were on the premises and had been fixed up to look like miniatures of the main house. Maybe George was hiding evidence there and that’s why Myrna had seen lights on? Plenty of people that worked at the real estate company had access to those buildings—he could easily say whatever was there wasn’t his.

  I plopped down on the couch to eat my sandwich. Pandora spied the sandwich wrapper in my hand and weaved her way over to me, rubbing against the edges of the chairs along the way and leaving short, gray silver-tipped hairs all over them. She looked up at me, her teeth clacking together just like they do when she’s looking longingly out the window at birds.

  “This is fish, not bird.” I ripped off a corner of the wrapper and put a smidge of tuna on it. Her paw shot up and skewered my hand, bringing the treat down toward her mouth before I had a chance to put it on the floor.

  “Sheesh. Have some patience.”

  “Patience is a virtue. Too bad I don’t have it.” Paisley’s ghost scared the bejesus out of me and I jerked in my seat. She laughed, then turned serious. “And I’m running out of patience with finding my killer. What have you got so far?”

  “I’ve been looking for you. I need your help. Where have you been?”

  “I was out back cavorting with Bobby and Frankie.”

  I screwed up my face. Just how many ghosts did I have in the shop? “Bobby and Frankie?”

  “Yeah, turns out they’re a lot of fun for old guys. She wiggled her brows and I realized she was talking about Robert Frost and Franklin Pierce. I didn’t want to know what she meant by ‘fun’.

  “So, anyway, I wanted to ask you about your brother.”

  Her eyes widened. “Did something happen to Kenny?”

  “No.” I studied her out of the corner of my eye. “Are you guys on speaking terms? I never heard you mention him.”

  “Well, it’s not like you and I were besties,” Paisley said.

  She had a point.

&nb
sp; She continued. “Kenny and I weren’t exceptionally close, but we were getting closer. Kenny had a lot of problems when he came back from Afghanistan. Drugs. Post-traumatic stress. Our folks are dead so it’s just him and me. I’d moved to Mystic Notch when he was overseas and he came and looked me up after he got back. I was trying to help him. He wouldn’t have hurt me.”

  “What if he needed money for drugs?”

  She shook her head violently. Drops of mist sprayed off in all directions, causing Pandora to run for cover. “No, Kenny's clean now. He's doing great. He's a sweet boy, really. But he doesn't have good social skills with people since the army … he's gentle with animals, though, so I know he doesn't have it in him to kill because he's a huge animal lover just like I am. He's been cleaning up his act and even got a room at the halfway house across from St. Vincent's." Her face turned sad. "I hope my death won't set him back."

  I decided to let it go. It was obvious Paisley wouldn't hear anything bad about her brother, so there was no sense in pursuing it, even if I did have my doubts. “Did your memory come back about that night? Do you remember why you were there or who was with you?”

  “I did remember one thing. I got an anonymous note to meet someone there at nine. That’s why I was working late.”

  “It wasn’t signed?”

  “No, that’s why I said it was anonymous.” She drew the last word out and gave me a sarcastic look.

  “Was it George?”

  “I don’t think so. He left around seven-thirty.”

  “Did you recognize the writing?”

  “No.”

  “Maybe it was your brother.”

  “No. Kenny wouldn’t leave me a weird note like that.”

  Unless he was trying to lure you there to surprise you and kill you, I thought, then decided to take another line of questioning.