by J A Whiting
“He came well-recommended?”
“Yes, highly. But the guy working for us doesn’t seem like the one with the great recommendations and resume.” Josh looked across the room and nodded. “That’s him speaking with the hostess.”
Angie glanced over. A tall, slender, man dressed in what appeared to be an expensive suit stood next to the hostess going over some papers. The man was middle-aged with dark brown hair. Some gray showed at his temples. “He looks very professional and polished.”
“His name is Andrew Flynn. He’s worked all over the world. Davis and I thought we hit the jackpot getting a guy like this to run the resort. Now I’m not so sure.”
Their meals arrived and the subject changed to other things. Angie enjoyed spending an hour with Josh. It almost made her forget why she had left the Victorian. Just as that thought entered her mind, her phone buzzed.
“Go ahead,” Josh said. “Check it.”
Angie lifted the phone from her pocket and looked at the text. Come home.
“I need to get back.” Nervous tension made Angie’s heart pound. She wished her sister had sent a little more information than only a two word text.
Chapter 10
Angie jogged the miles from the point to the center of Sweet Cove and she slowed to a walk as she turned on to Beach Street. Her leg muscles were tight and her lungs burned. She realized she needed to get more regular exercise.
By the time she climbed the Victorian’s front porch steps, her breathing continued to be quick and labored, but now the reason wasn’t because she had been running. Angie didn’t know what awaited her inside the house. Twice on her way home, she’d stopped and texted Ellie and Courtney, but neither one replied. Her heart hammered. Her stomach clenched with worry as she reached for the doorknob, turned it slowly, and tip-toed into the foyer.
Angie looked into the living room and her heart jumped into her throat when saw Mr. Finch sprawled on the sofa. Her hand flew up to her mouth to stifle a gasp. A blanket haphazardly covered Finch and a cold compress lay across his forehead. What Angie could see of his face was ghostly pale. His eyes were closed. She thought he looked like he was dead.
Euclid and the black cat were perched on the back of the sofa watching over Finch.
The soft click of shoes on the wood floor caused Angie to turn towards the hall. Ellie came into the foyer carrying a tray with a glass of water and a cup of tea on it. She put an index finger to her lips indicating the need for quiet.
Angie nodded.
Ellie went into the living room and placed the tray on the coffee table. She went back into the foyer and took Angie by the elbow steering her down the hallway and into the family room at the back of the house.
“What’s been happening?” Angie asked. “How’s Mr. Finch?”
Ellie sat down on the comfy sofa. “He seems fine now. I think the spell or whatever it was is over.”
Angie blew out a sigh of relief.
“He wanted to search the house for you. Courtney came down and corralled him in the living room. She told him you would be angry if he didn’t behave.”
The corners of Angie’s mouth turned up and she couldn’t keep herself from chuckling.
Ellie frowned. “Yes. Laugh. I was a nervous wreck.” She pulled her long blonde hair over her shoulder. “After three hours of his foolishness, he suddenly got a headache and collapsed on the sofa. Courtney and Jenna stayed with him. He fell asleep, but had wild dreams. He was calling out, thrashing.”
“Oh, no.” Angie felt awful for causing Finch’s ordeal.
“At last, he calmed. He’s been quiet. I think he’ll be okay when he wakes up.” Ellie shook her head. “Our poor guests, the Foleys. Mrs. Foley wanted to call an ambulance. She was sure Finch had lost his mind, or he’d had a stroke. I made up a story that Finch had a strong reaction to a new medication.”
“What clever thinking. You handled the whole mess perfectly.” Angie praised her sister. “Where are Jenna and Courtney?”
“They’re in Jenna’s shop working on the jewelry.”
Euclid and the black cat appeared at the entrance to the family room. Euclid let out a howl. Ellie and Angie jumped.
“Finch must be awake. Euclid and the other cat have been watching over him.” Ellie stood up and headed for the living room with Angie following behind. Ellie said over her shoulder, “We need to name that cat. And why is she always trying to get into my office?”
“Is she? I didn’t know.”
“She meows at the door until I let her in there,” Ellie said. “She’s obsessed with that room.”
They approached the living room.
Mr. Finch was sitting up on the sofa rubbing his forehead. A lock of his gray hair hung over his face. He lifted his tired eyes as the girls and the cats hurried towards him. Making eye contact with Finch, a quiver of worry shuddered down Angie’s spine that maybe the spell hadn’t let go of him, but his voice was soft and his facial expression remained flat when he saw her. Angie let out the breath she had been holding tight in her lungs.
“How are you feeling, Mr. Finch?” Angie wondered if Finch would remember the feelings he had experienced for her.
“I had a headache. It came on quickly.” He reached for the glass of water.
“Can we get you anything?” Ellie sat down in the chair next to the sofa.
Finch gulped his water and set the glass back on the tray. “I think I’d like to go up to my room. Perhaps take a shower.” He glanced around looking for his cane.
Angie spotted the cane partially hidden under the sofa. She bent and lifted it off the floor. She passed it to Mr. Finch and as they both held on to it, a wave of dizziness washed over her. Angie sucked in a short, quick gasp. Her vision darkened until she could only see through a small hole.
She pictured herself standing at the top of a long staircase. A man’s voice shouted, but the sound was muffled. The anger in the voice was directed at her. Adrenaline pulsed through her veins. The voice shouted again, closer this time. Someone came at her. His hands clutched her neck and pushed her backwards. In slow motion, she plunged down the staircase, her spine cracking against each tread of the stairs. Pain flashed in her back until it consumed her.
In the void, a tiny pin prick sparkled and expanded until Angie’s vision fully returned. A breath of air escaped her throat. She released her hold on Mr. Finch’s cane.
“Are you okay?” Ellie gave her sister a strange look.
“I think I’m getting a headache. I felt dizzy for a second.” Angie took a quick look at Mr. Finch.
He pushed himself off the sofa, holding tight to his cane. Ellie took Finch’s arm and the two walked to the front staircase.
“Be careful on the stairs,” Angie called to them as Ellie helped Mr. Finch up to his room.
***
The four sisters sat on the sofas in the family room each holding plates with slices of pizza and portions of fresh salad. Angie made the pizza after she’d had a nap and a shower. She wanted to cook something normal, something that no one would have a weird reaction to. She was careful not to put any intentions into the dough.
“Next time you attempt a spell, you need to keep focused on your thoughts.” Courtney bit into her pizza slice. “Don’t let extraneous ideas surface while you bake.”
“I didn’t realize,” Angie said. “At least now we know that things wear off, it’s nothing permanent. Thankfully.”
Jenna said, “Still, you’ll need to be careful when you bake. Make sure nothing slips from your mind into the food.”
“I’m just glad Mr. Finch is okay.” Ellie grabbed a napkin from the coffee table.
Angie told her sisters what the cab driver said about Finch arriving in Sweet Cove two days prior to the murder. “I distinctly remember Finch telling me that he’d only just arrived on the morning of the murder.”
Courtney sat up. “Why did he lie? Did he kill his brother?”
Jenna looked at Ellie. “You clean his room everyday.
Look through his things. See if you can find any evidence. Maybe he has a shirt with blood on it.”
“I’m not looking through his things.” Ellie stabbed a piece of lettuce with her fork. “That’s completely unethical.”
“So is murdering your brother,” Jenna said. Her legs were curled under her, the dinner plate balanced on her knees.
“Something happened to me when I passed Finch his cane today.” Angie told them of the vision she had of being shoved down a staircase.
“What was that about?” Ellie’s face had worry lines creased across her forehead.
“Was it a warning?” Jenna turned concerned eyes to Angie. “A premonition?”
Angie shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ll just be careful around stairs for a while, I guess.”
“Wait.” Courtney’s eyes widened. “Was Finch holding the cane at the same time you held it?”
“I think so,” Angie said. “Yes, I handed it to him, so we both had our hands on it at the same time. Why?”
“Could the vision have been from Finch? Like a memory, transmitted to you through the cane?” Courtney said.
The three girls’ faces were blank. They thought about Courtney’s idea.
“Maybe?” Angie said with a soft voice.
Jenna said, “Maybe the image crossed into your mind because Finch had recently been under your muffin spell.”
“Why does everyone have powers surfacing all of a sudden?” Ellie looked like she had eaten something bad. “Is it this house?” She glanced around the room, a worried and frightened look on her face.
“I don’t have any powers.” Even though Jenna was trying to reassure her sister, she sounded slightly disappointed in her lack of abilities.
“It’s not the house,” Courtney said. “It’s us.” She reached for another slice of pizza.
Ellie put her empty plate on the coffee table. “Why don’t you just ask Finch again if he was in town prior to the day his bother was killed? Maybe it’s just a misunderstanding.” Ellie picked up her glass of lemon water. “And then you could ask him, oh by the way, have you ever been pushed down a flight of stairs?”
“He might find that an odd question.” Angie smiled. “I think I’m done pestering Mr. Finch.”
Angie’s phone buzzed with an incoming call.
Euclid let out a hiss.
Angie didn’t recognize the number, but answered anyway. “Hello?” She listened for a few seconds and then bolted up off the sofa with the phone still pressed to her ear. “Okay. We’ll see you in a few minutes. Thanks.” She ended the call. “That was Chief Martin.” Angie let the hand holding the phone fall to her side. “The artwork at the late Mr. Finch’s house…one of the paintings has been stolen.”
“What?!” The three girls howled.
“The chief is coming over in a few minutes to tell Mr. Finch.”
Chapter 11
Angie ushered the chief into the living room where Mr. Finch sat waiting for him. Ellie had been sitting with Finch keeping him company and she stood when Chief Martin entered the room. Angie and Ellie thought it best if the two men spoke in private so they started to walk away, but Finch asked them to remain in the living room with him.
“It would be helpful to me if you listened to what Chief Martin has to tell me. I’d like to be able to talk things over with someone, so I’d like you to hear the details first hand.”
When everyone was settled in their seats, the chief cleared his throat. “I’m sorry to report that your brother’s house was broken into. It seems to have been a purposeful robbery. The largest painting was taken. Nothing else appeared to have been removed from the house.”
“That’s no surprise. That painting was the most valuable.” Finch gripped the top of his cane with both hands.
“The break-in occurred in the last three days. We’ve had patrol cars driving by the house periodically and an officer inspects the outside of the property every other day. This afternoon one of the officers walked around the premises and noticed the back door ajar. He investigated and discovered the painting missing.” The chief let out a long sigh.
Angie asked, “What about the burglar alarm. You set it when we left the house the other day.”
“It had been disarmed.”
“Obviously someone knew the painting was in the house … and that there was an alarm.” Ellie’s forehead was creased.
“That information was never publicized, was it?” Angie looked at the chief. “That the late Mr. Finch had valuable artwork in his house?”
“No.” The chief shook his head. “If that was made known, it would be an open invitation to thieves.”
“Perhaps,” Finch’s voice shook, “my brother’s killer came back and took the painting?”
Chief Martin lifted his hands, the palms up. “That is unknown at this time. It can’t be ruled out, I’m afraid. It’s a possibility.”
Angie glanced at Mr. Finch. His facial muscles were slack and his wrinkles looked more pronounced. The murder and the break-in were taking a toll on him. Her attempt at the muffin “spell” hadn’t done him any good either.
The chief spoke again. “Our concern is about the other paintings in the house. We think they should be removed. I spoke with the bank in town. They don’t have the means to protect or store the artwork. We could keep the paintings at the police station for a short time. My recommendation to you, Mr. Finch, would be to retain an attorney to help you navigate the legal mess of your brother’s estate. An attorney could start the proceedings for you to take over the belongings, the house, the candy store, and any other of your brother’s holdings, and he or she could advise you on how best to protect the remaining paintings. In the meantime, we can remove the artwork to the police station, with your permission, of course. We can hold them there until you make other arrangements.”
Mr. Finch nodded.
“Would you like me to contact the town attorney? Ask him to get in touch with you?” Chief Martin asked. “His name is Jack Ford.”
Angie and Ellie exchanged worried looks at the mention of the lawyer.
“Please do.” Mr. Finch said.
The chief finished up with Mr. Finch and he left the house. Angie and Ellie stayed in the living room in case Finch wanted to talk.
“I’m sorry about the painting,” Ellie said.
Finch tried to force a slight smile. “It was never mine anyway.”
Euclid and the black cat jumped up beside Finch and he patted them absent-mindedly. When the purring started, Finch smiled. “Such a comforting sound. You are both very fine animals.”
“Be careful with your praise, Mr. Finch,” Ellie told him. “It goes straight to Euclid’s head.”
“And, what about the other cat?” He scratched the black cat’s cheek. “Does praise go to her head, as well?”
Angie said, “We don’t know her well enough to say.”
Ellie looked at Angie. “No one answered the ad you placed for her.”
“I guess she is the newest member of your family then.” Mr. Finch looked kindly at the dark feline. “You’ll be needing a name.”
Courtney and Jenna came in and sat with the others. They heard what Finch said.
“Do you have a suggestion?” Jenna asked him.
The older man stroked the cat’s luxurious ebony fur. “What about Circe?”
“What a pretty name.” Courtney smiled. “How did you think of it?”
“It’s from Greek mythology. Circe was the goddess of magic.” Mr. Finch rested his cane against the arm of the sofa.
“I think it’s perfect,” Courtney said.
Euclid sat up and trilled.
Everyone chuckled.
Angie looked over at the orange cat. “I guess you approve, Euclid.”
“Then Circe it is,” Jenna agreed.
***
Angie was up late sitting at the dining room table going over Tom’s estimate for the Victorian’s renovations. She used a pencil to write her questions in the margin
of the report. Her sisters had gone to bed over an hour ago. Euclid slept on top of the cabinet. Circe meowed from the hallway. She sat at the door to the den and Angie got up to open it for her. “What’s so great about this den? There are seventeen other rooms you can go into, you know.”
Angie had just returned to her seat at the dining table when she heard soft footsteps on the stairs. Mr. Finch was coming down the steps dressed in his pajamas, robe, and slippers.
“Can’t you sleep, Mr. Finch?” Angie placed the pencil on the table.
“I didn’t think anyone was still up.” Finch took slow steps into the dining room. “I sometimes have trouble falling asleep. The events of the past week haven’t helped in that regard.” He gave Angie a weary smile.
Euclid lifted his head, saw it was Finch, and went back to sleep.
Each night, Ellie left hot water, coffee, juice, and ice water on the side board for the guests. There was a basket of fresh fruit, a hazelnut cake, and a glass domed platter with chocolate-brownie cookies and biscuits.
Mr. Finch poured himself a glass of water. “May I sit here with you?”
“Of course. I’m just reviewing the estimate for the renovations.”
“When will they start working on the house?” Finch sipped his water.
“Not until I have the deed. Probably in a couple of months.”
Finch took another sip, and then placed the glass on the table. He raised his eyes to Angie. There were heavy bags under his eyes which pulled the lower lids down slightly. His pale blue eyes looked watery and a tiny bit red.
His voice was calm when he asked, “Do you want to ask me something?”
Angie was about to dismiss Finch’s idea that she might have a question for him, but she changed her mind and decided not to deny it. The corners of her mouth turned up and she tipped her head to the side. “How do you know that I have a question?”
