Murder So Sweet (A Sweet Cove Mystery Book 2)

by J A Whiting

  Courtney nodded. “Can we go talk to Mr. Finch now?”

  The three of them headed inside. As Courtney was about to open the door, the chief spoke, his voice a little shaky. He glanced at Euclid. “Could that cat come in with us?”

  Angie gave the chief a look of surprise mixed with equal parts wonder and alarm. “Why?”

  Chief Martin gave a pathetic shrug.

  Euclid stood up, jumped down from the chair, walked proudly to the open door, and entered the foyer in front of the humans, his huge orange tail flicking from side to side.

  ***

  Inside the house, the unusual quartet entered the dining room where Mr. Finch, dressed in a shirt and tie and suit jacket, sat at the table, drinking tea and reading a newspaper. He glanced up, his eyes moving over the group. “Hello.”

  “Can we join you, Mr. Finch?” Angie stepped forward.

  “Please.” Finch gestured to the seats around the table.

  They all sat down around the dining table. Euclid jumped up to the top of the China cabinet.

  “How are you doing, Mr. Finch?” Courtney sat across from him. “Did you sleep okay?”

  “I don’t travel often and I can be restless in a new place, but the bed and the room are so comfortable I slept extremely well.” He lifted his tea cup to his lips. “Is there any news about my brother, Chief Martin?”

  “We’re continuing our investigation.”

  Ellie came into the room. “Oh, you’re all here. I’ll bring some more cups.” She turned to go back to the kitchen.

  “Would you mind if I asked you some questions, Mr. Finch?” Chief Martin asked.

  “I don’t mind at all. I want to do what I can to help.” Finch lifted his napkin to his mouth and wiped his lips.

  “When was the last time you saw your brother?”

  Finch leaned back and looked off into space. “I don’t recall.” He was quiet for several moments, thinking. “When we were in our early twenties. That’s the last time I saw him.”

  “That was some time ago,” Chief Martin said.

  “Time flies and leaves us in its wake.” Finch placed his hand around his tea cup.

  “Had you spoken with your brother? Did you keep in contact?”

  “No. To my great sorrow.”

  Courtney didn’t think Finch’s words fit the lack of emotion that he showed. She thought he seemed very business-like while claiming heartache over the loss of his brother. It didn’t ring true to her.

  “Are you retired? What did you do for a living?” The chief was writing in a small notebook he had placed on the table.

  “I spent my working life as a teacher. A mathematics teacher.”

  Euclid stood up on the China cabinet and let out a long, low hiss. Everyone turned to look at the cat. Ellie had just entered the room carrying a tray of mugs. “Euclid, stop that hissing.” She placed a mug at everyone’s place.

  “What’s wrong with the cat?” Mr. Finch asked.

  Angie said, “His previous owner was a mathematics professor.” After the words were out of her mouth, she felt foolish for saying such a silly thing.

  “He speaks English?” Finch inquired.

  Angie wasn’t sure how to answer that question.

  Courtney said, “He understands what we say. Euclid is very intelligent.”

  The chief tried to get the questioning back on track. “Do you have any other relatives?”

  “I’m afraid not.” Finch shook his head sadly.

  “Are you married, Mr. Finch?”

  “I never found the proper match.”

  Angie was amazed how little information was actually coming out of this conversation. She had learned very little about Finch despite the Chief’s questions.

  “May I ask what the reason was for your estrangement from your brother?” The chief leaned into the table slightly, his pen poised in the air.

  Finch gave a small chuckle. “It was so long ago. You may find this odd, but I don’t recall.”

  The girls flashed a quick look at Chief Martin. Courtney wondered how Finch could forget what caused a rift so great that he and his brother hadn’t spoken for fifty years. Angie thought that it must be something very troubling or important if Finch pretended that he had forgotten the reason that he and his brother had a falling out.

  “Did your brother know you were coming to see him?” Angie asked.

  Finch looked over the rims of his glasses at Angie. “I thought it best to surprise him.”

  The chief straightened up in his seat. “We’re going to visit your brother’s home later today. You may accompany us, if you’d like.”

  “Yes, I would like to join you.” Finch pushed his seat back from the table. “I’d like to go to my room now and rest. Would you excuse me?”

  The chief gave a slight nod. “We’ll be leaving for your brother’s house in about two hours.”

  “I’ll be ready.” Finch stood, walked slowly to the staircase, and clutching the banister and leaning on his cane, slowly pulled himself up the flight of stairs.

  “That was a bunch of nothing,” Courtney whispered.

  “Exactly.” The chief looked at each girl. “Did you get anything from the encounter?”

  Angie shook her head. “I didn’t sense anything, no more than what anyone else would feel from evasive answers.”

  “I didn’t get anything from him either.” As Courtney turned to look up at the cabinet, she asked, “How about you, Euclid?”

  Euclid was not in his usual place on top of the cabinet. Courtney, Angie, and the chief craned their necks to look into the foyer. Euclid sat on a side table, eagerly looking out the window, flicking his tail.

  “Guess he lost interest in the proceedings.” Chief Martin stood and told the girls, "Maybe at Finch’s house you’ll sense something.” He gestured to the second floor. “This Mr. Finch didn’t have much to share, did he?”

  “It makes me suspicious.” Courtney stood up and folded her arms over her chest.

  “Courtney has been suspicious of him since he arrived here,” Angie told the chief.

  “Maybe there’s reason for that. I’ll be back in a couple of hours. We’ll head over to take a look around the house.”

  The chief thanked the girls for trying, and they walked him to the door. When Courtney opened it, a medium-sized black cat with a white spot on her chest sat on the porch in front of them.

  “Who’s this?” Angie bent and held out her hand. The cat moved closer, sniffed Angie’s fingers and rubbed her cheeks on them. “What a friendly girl.”

  Euclid appeared beside Angie. He and the black cat sniffed noses. Euclid turned and the cat followed him into the house.

  “Hey.” Courtney went to pick up the new cat. Euclid arched his back and hissed at her. “Bad boy. No hissing at me.” Courtney looked at Angie. “What should we do?’

  Angie waved her hand at the two cats. “Let her stay. She’ll probably ask to go home soon enough.”

  The cats disappeared into the house.

  “Looks like she’s come to stay.” The chief walked down the porch steps to go to his car. “I’ll pick you up in two hours.”

  Chapter 7

  The chief’s police car pulled into the driveway and Angie, Courtney, and Mr. Finch came down off the porch. Angie held Mr. Finch’s arm. He had his cane in one hand. The chief opened the vehicle’s back door and helped Finch onto the back seat. Courtney took the front passenger side. “This is only the second time I’ve been in a police car.” She looked all around.

  “That’s good news.” Chief Martin gave Courtney a smile. “I’m glad to hear that you haven’t been in a police car other than with me driving.” He started the car, backed out, and drove several miles to the late Thaddeus Finch’s house.

  Victor Finch craned his neck as the car approached his brother’s home. The house was a small, neatly tended ranch with an attached two-car garage. There were no flowers around the property, but the lawn and bushes were trimmed and healthy. Chi
ef Martin pulled into the driveway and parked in front of one of the garage bays.

  The chief, holding a camera, opened the car doors for Angie, Finch, and Courtney. The four of them approached the house.

  “It’s what I expected of Thaddeus.” Finch glanced around. “Nothing ostentatious. Simple and functional. He wasn’t one for extravagance.”

  The chief opened the front door and he and Courtney went inside. Angie helped Finch up the few front stairs. When they entered the house, Angie’s eyes widened.

  There was a small foyer with beautiful Italian ceramic tiles on the floor. The space to the right ran from the front to the back of the house and had a gleaming hardwood floor and cathedral ceilings. The walls were cream and the room was furnished sparsely with a Scandinavian style sofa, two chairs, and a glass coffee table positioned before a tiled fireplace. The rear wall of the room was all glass affording a full view of the backyard lawn and trees. Contemporary artwork of vivid colors hung on the walls. The effect was stunning and it echoed being in a high-end art gallery.

  “I wasn’t expecting this.” Courtney stood in the middle of the room gazing about.

  Mr. Finch limped around the room leaning on his cane, his eyes wide. Chief Martin took photographs of the space. Angie walked over to look at the paintings. The place looked like a layout in a high-end architectural magazine. Angie noticed that personal belongings were lacking in the room, no photographs, no books, no knick-knacks of any kind. Except for the paintings, the room was sterile and cold.

  The four of them entered an enormous all white kitchen. Everything was neatly in place. Inside the cabinets, white dishes stood at the ready, glasses of different sizes lined up like soldiers. Everything was clean. No crumbs, no clutter. Nothing even looked used.

  “Well,” Angie said, “it sure doesn’t look like our kitchen.”

  “It’s kind of creepy,” Courtney whispered. “Where’s all the…stuff?”

  The chief opened a cabinet and pulled out the trash can which glided smoothly on metal runners. There were just two crumpled paper towels at the bottom.

  “Did Finch really live here?” Angie moved her palm over the granite counters. “It’s like no one ever used the place.”

  Courtney opened the fridge. “There’s food in the fridge at least.”

  They continued into the other rooms, each one clean and neat and Spartan. Dead Finch’s clothes hung in the closet, lined up by color, which only included shades of black and gray. Moving from room to room, the chief opened drawers and closets. There weren’t any spaces stuffed with papers or clutter. No bills, no letters, no newspapers. There were no cars in the pristine garage space.

  Courtney asked Mr. Finch, “Was your brother always a neat freak?”

  Finch took a deep breath. “He always wanted things neat, to have control. It was important to him.”

  After looking through the other rooms, they returned to the living room.

  “Do you like the paintings?” Finch asked no one in particular.

  “I like the colors,” Angie said. “But I’m not really a big fan of abstract art.”

  “I think they’re striking.” Courtney gazed at the shapes and colors.

  “Then you have good taste, Miss Courtney.” Finch kept his eyes on the wall’s displays. “These pieces of art are very valuable.”

  The chief moved closer to Mr. Finch. “Are they?”

  Finch nodded. “We’d better remember to arm the house alarm when we leave.”

  “You’re familiar with abstract art?” Angie asked.

  “I am.” He gestured to the paintings. “My brother has amassed quite a collection.”

  Angie thought she noticed the shimmer of a tear in Mr. Finch’s eye, and she instinctively put her hand on his arm. The skitter of something flew over her skin and for a half second an image tried to form in her mind, but in a flash, it was gone.

  “The paintings are valuable?” Chief Martin asked as he photographed more of the room.

  “Very.” Finch’s voice was soft.

  The chief was about to shift his camera towards the far wall when he asked, “How valuable? Are you able to estimate?”

  Finch cleared his throat. “One or two million dollars worth. At least.”

  Angie’s mouth dropped open.

  The chief whirled back to Finch and gaped at him.

  Courtney’s eyes went wide. “Who knew selling candy was so lucrative?”

  Chapter 8

  The four sisters relaxed in the large family room at the back of the house that they had made into their private space. Courtney and Angie told Jenna and Ellie about the visit to the late Mr. Finch’s house and the art collection that was inside.

  “That’s amazing.” Jenna passed a bowl of popcorn to Angie. “How did he afford it all?”

  “Maybe he bought the paintings when the artists were unknowns,” Ellie suggested. “Then their value increased over the years.”

  “That’s possible.” Angie shifted and rested her head back against the sofa. “When we were at the house, I thought I felt something from Mr. Finch … sadness…a loss. I only sensed it for a moment and then the feeling was gone. I wonder what it was.”

  “Could it be a memory he had? And you picked up on it?” Courtney lounged sideways on one of the chairs, her legs hanging over one of the arms.

  Angie’s comment about sensing something from Finch led to her and Courtney telling their sisters what Chief Martin had said about Nana helping the police with cases and that Nana was sure all four of them would develop powers of some sort. The discussion centered on when it might happen to each of them and what kind of skills they might have.

  Ellie was not on board. The idea gave her the creeps.

  Courtney told Ellie, “Maybe you inherited Mom’s aversion to powers. She didn’t want anything to do with it either.”

  Jenna considered. “Of the four of us, Ellie looks the most like mom, so maybe Courtney’s right. Maybe Ellie inherited some dislike of paranormal stuff.”

  “I don’t have to have powers, do I?” Ellie’s voice carried a bit of a panicky tone.

  Angie took Ellie’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “Mom didn’t do anything with her powers, so you don’t have to either. I don’t think you have to worry.”

  Euclid and the black cat walked into the room and lay down on the rug in front of the fireplace.

  “What about this cat?” Jenna asked.

  “She hasn’t asked to leave yet.” Courtney went over to the cats and scratched them behind their ears. “I think we should keep her.”

  “I’ll put an ad in the Sweet Cove weekly saying we found a cat,” Angie said. “If the owner doesn’t come forward, then I guess she’ll stay.”

  “It’s like Euclid was expecting her.” Courtney patted the black cat’s back. The animal purred.

  Ellie’s face took on a worried expression. “How would Euclid know her? How would he know she was going to show up here?”

  “Euclid knows everything,” Courtney said. The orange cat rubbed his chin against Courtney’s fingers. “He is a very smart boy.”

  The conversation turned to Mr. Finch’s murder and his strange brother, who was still a guest in their B and B.

  “What do you think of our Mr. Finch?” Jenna asked her sisters.

  Angie passed the popcorn to Ellie. “Please don’t call him our Mr. Finch. It sounds like we’re going to be stuck with him.”

  “That wouldn’t be so bad actually.” Ellie dug into the bowl. “Having a permanent boarder would be good for us financially.”

  Courtney stretched out on the floor next to the cats. “I’m suspicious of him still. How did he show up on the day his brother gets killed? It’s too much of a coincidence. After fifty years of not being in contact? How is that possible?”

  Jenna looked off into space. “Wait.” She sat up. “What if this Mr. Finch has powers?”

  “What?” Ellie almost shrieked.

  “Maybe he can sense things.” Jenna was
excited by her idea. “That’s how he showed up in Sweet Cove. He sensed his brother was in danger.”

  Courtney pushed herself into sitting position. “Wow. That makes perfect sense.”

  “Only to a crazy person.” Ellie harrumphed and shook her head. “What’s happening to this family?”

  “I wonder if he would open up to us. Maybe the chief makes him nervous.” Angie reached for her iced tea. “We should have a casual conversation with him.”

  “I think he’s avoiding telling anything important.” Jenna put her feet up on the coffee table. “He talks, he answers questions, but there’s never anything of substance to what he says. He’s being deliberately evasive.”

  Courtney sprang up off the floor. “Angie. Your baking.”

  “What?” Angie blinked.

  “Your baking. Some people say there’s something special about your bakery items. They make them feel good. When the bake shop was open, some people only wanted you to make their drinks and only ate what you baked.”

  “That was just silly,” Angie protested. “What does that have to do with Mr. Finch?”

  “You should bake something. Get him to eat it. Maybe you could try to make the food item like a truth serum.” Courtney sat down in the chair next to Angie and leaned forward.

  “I don’t get it,” Jenna said.

  “Angie is always happy and pleasant. She must somehow put those emotions into what she bakes. People feel good after they eat her baked goods.” Courtney stared at each of her sisters. “This is Angie’s power.”

  Euclid lifted his head.

  “Oh God,” Ellie groaned.

  “Bake something,” Courtney said. “Try to put the desire for truth into the item.”

  Angie’s face was blank. “How would I do that?”

  “I don’t know. Just think about it while you make it.” Courtney stood up. “Come on. Try it.”

  Angie started to protest. “I don’t know. It sounds crazy.”

  “Exactly.” Ellie frowned.

  Jenna stood up. “It can’t hurt to try it. Think of it as an experiment. Test what you’re capable of.” She grabbed Angie’s hands and pulled her up from her seat. “It could be fun.” Jenna laughed as she and Courtney corralled Angie and herded her into the kitchen.