“Cut the engine,” I hissed. “Don’t put your lights on.”
“For pity’s sakes, why? Don’t you want to go home?”
“I’d rather see who this is first.”
I inclined my head toward the darkened street. A car had just turned the corner, heading toward us. What was unusual was, it’s headlights were off. I grabbed Gary’s arm and pushed him down in the seat. I slid down too, and we both peeped over the top of the dashboard, watching as the car made a sharp turn and pulled into the driveway of the darkened house next to Mel Feller’s. A few seconds later a horn blasted once, then Mel came banging out of his back door. He hurried over to the car, opened the passenger door, and got in. The driver put the car into reverse, backed out of the drive, and took off like a rocket down the street.
Gary turned the key in the ignition. “Want to follow ’em?” he asked.
I shook my head. “No. They’re driving too fast. Could you see what color that sedan was?”
“Not really, but if I had to guess, I’d say maybe . . . dark red.”
“When they shot out of the drive, I got a glimpse of the person in the driver’s seat—just an impression, but I thought it was a light-haired female.”
Gary shook his head. “I didn’t notice, sorry.” He leaned over to look deeply into my eyes. “I know that look. Your wheels are spinning. You think you know who Feller’s nocturnal visitor was?”
“I’m pretty sure I do,” I said slowly. “I’m pretty sure that was Mayor Carolyn Hart.”
“The mayor?” Gary let out a low whistle. “You’ve got to be wrong. What would she be doing with Feller?”
“The mayor is an honorary museum board member,” I said slowly. “Maybe the museum woman Mel was involved with wasn’t Londra. Maybe it was Mayor Hart.”
Gary’s jaw dropped. “Really? You think the mayor would be running around with that guy?”
“Honestly? I’m not sure what to think.”
Gary started up the car and eased away from the curb. “Know what? I think we both need to get back to your place, eat this food, and get a good night’s sleep. Maybe in the morning, when we’re both fresh, we can put some of this in perspective.”
We rode the rest of the way back to my house in silence. Londra might have been responsible for Amelia’s death, but somehow, I didn’t think so. I had the feeling she’d been an innocent pawn in a very dangerous game, like Kim Novak’s character of Judy in Vertigo, only Londra had paid with her life. But proving it?
That was another matter entirely.
Twenty-six
The next day I decided that in light of Londra’s confession, phony though I thought it was, it at least took the heat off me and I should get back to making arrangements for the grand reopening of Urban Tails. I left Gary sleeping, fed the cats, and drove down to the store shortly before nine. Once inside, I paused and looked around. I could feel Aunt Tillie’s presence, smiling at me, encouraging me in this new venture. I knew that wherever she was, she was extremely proud.
First thing I did was measure the area behind the counter. Sure enough, it was just as I suspected. The Poe bust would fit, but there would be little room for anything else, including me. The section over by the cat toys, though, was perfect. A table would fit in between the cat wands and the birdseed, and Edgar and the Raven would be visible enough to welcome both old and new customers. I made a note to ask Gary to help me repack the bust when I got home.
I made some more supplier calls. One was to a parrot breeder that my aunt had used. He was delighted to have Urban Tails’s business again, and promised to meet with me early next week to review what I’d need. Next I called the exotic fish supplier and made arrangements to have several different types of fish delivered within the next two weeks. I ordered a larger number of goldfish, figuring they were the more universally appealing. I could always add or subtract as I got more used to my customer base. Which reminded me, I’d also have to see about updating the store’s website. Aunt Tillie had created one, but it wasn’t exactly what I’d call state-of-the-art. Since I was what one would refer to as technologically challenged, I’d probably have to hire someone to spruce it up a bit, maybe add a section for online sales. I made a mental note to ask Gary. My ex-costar was far more savvy about websites and such things than I.
I’d just finished placing an order for dog and cat food through another of Tillie’s trusted suppliers and was just about to call the birdseed supplier when I heard a tap-tap at the door. The sign—Closed. Reopening Soon—was still taped there. Couldn’t anyone in this town read?
“We’re not open yet, sorry,” I called loudly. I went back through my ledger but the tapping persisted, more insistent this time. With a groan, I shoved myself off the stool and marched to the front door, flung it open—and then let out a gasp as I saw Josh standing there. I tried not to notice how handsome he looked in a green blazer, khaki pants, and a tan-and-white-striped shirt. The smile he offered me was wide and genuine, and for a moment I was reminded of the day we’d met in the park, when none of the ugliness of Amelia’s murder had interfered.
“Good morning, Shell. I stopped by your house, but Gary said you’d come here.”
Ah, so Gary had read the note I’d left him. That was encouraging. “Yes, I figured since I was eliminated as a suspect, I could finally start planning the grand reopening.” I paused and stepped aside as he came into the store. “I am eliminated, right?”
He nodded. “I never really seriously considered you a suspect.”
I raised a brow. “You could have fooled me.”
He chuckled. “I just thought I’d drop by to let you know that we got the final coroner’s report. Londra died from anaphylactic shock resulting from an allergic reaction to peanuts.”
I nodded. “Does that mean you’re going to close both cases? Write up Londra’s death as a suicide and brand her Amelia’s murderer?”
“The evidence makes it appear that’s what happened,” he said. Again, I noticed the extra emphasis he put on the word appear.
I looked him right in the eye. “Is that what you think happened?”
“I’m not sure. It all seems neat and tidy.” Josh leaned his elbow against the counter. “In addition to the peanut shells and half-empty bag we found under the desk, we also found a paper in a file folder on the desk. The amended bill of lading for that knife shipment and the request for refund.” Josh reached into his jacket pocket and removed a paper from it. He laid it on the counter and I leaned in for a closer look. There was a long list of items, three of which had circles around them, indicating they were missing. At the bottom was Mazie Madison’s signature.
“We compared the handwriting on the suicide note with the note found on Amelia,” Josh went on. “They match. Londra probably took the knives to show her boyfriend, Mel Feller, and Amelia must have found out about it somehow. She most likely threatened Londra with theft charges, and Londra felt desperate. She saw an opportunity to solve the problem when you started quizzing, and pissing off, the other board members. Mazie verified that Amelia usually came by the museum on Sunday mornings to look over any board correspondence. Londra knew that, and so she wrote that note to Amelia, figuring Amelia would get in touch with you and tell you to come down, and then she went in and killed her. But the guilt over trying to blame you for the murder as well as Amelia’s death finally got to her, and she took her own life.”
I had to agree, it certainly seemed neat and tidy. Too neat and tidy.
“What about Mayor Hart?” I asked abruptly.
Josh’s brows drew together. “Mayor Hart?”
“She’s an honorary board member, as I understand it. Did anyone check on her alibi for the time of Amelia’s death?”
Josh stared at me. “Shell, you can’t be serious. You think Mayor Hart had something to do with Amelia’s death?”
“I’m just wondering if anyone’s checked out the possibility that maybe the woman Mel Feller had a relationship with wasn’t Londra.�
�
Josh’s eyes widened. “You think Mel and the mayor . . . ?” He stared at me, and then started to laugh.
“I don’t see where it’s so funny,” I snapped. “When I questioned Mel last night, it certainly didn’t seem to me as if he were in a serious relationship with Londra. He didn’t even know she was allergic to peanuts!”
“When you questioned . . . what were you doing interrogating him?” Josh cried.
“Someone had to,” I said with a curl of my lip.
Josh started to sputter something, but stopped as his phone rang. He whipped it out of his pocket, glanced at the screen. He gave me a baleful look and said, “I have to take this. Excuse me just a sec.” He moved over toward the rack that held the rabbit and gerbil food, and I noticed that he’d left the bill of lading lying on my counter. I picked up my iPhone from the counter, walked over to the piece of paper, and took two quick pictures of it. Why, I had no idea.
Josh returned, sliding his phone back into his jacket pocket. “I’m sorry, that was the station. I have to go.” He plucked the paper from the counter, folded it, and slid it into his other pocket. “I’ll be in touch.”
That was my cue to look adoringly into his eyes and say, “Oh, Josh, I would love that. Maybe we can get together soon.” Instead I heard myself saying, “Have you even questioned Mel Feller about his relationship with Londra yet?”
Josh looked a bit surprised, but he nodded. “I went over there early this morning.”
“Was he surprised to learn she was dead?”
“Not really.” As my eyes widened he added, “He said that Londra had been having some problems recently. He also admitted that their relationship was fragile and under a strain. He was considering breaking up with her. Quite honestly, he wasn’t a bit surprised she committed suicide.”
Of course not, I thought, not when his real girlfriend already tipped him off and probably coached him on what to say.
“Fine.” I didn’t even make a move to walk him to the door. “I guess I’ll see you around.”
He looked deeply into my eyes for a long moment, then gave me a curt nod and said, “Sure. I’ll see you.”
I watched as the door closed behind him. Then I let out a long sigh, picked up the ledger, and called the birdseed supplier. Sunflower seeds wait for no man.
• • •
“Why did you take photos of this bill of lading?” Gary asked. I’d returned home after finishing with the suppliers to find Gary, dressed in polo shirt and khakis, sitting in the living room, sipping coffee and reading the paper. I’d gotten myself a cup of coffee and filled him in on Josh’s visit.
“Honest? I’m not sure. I just have a feeling that all this isn’t over yet.”
“Because you won’t let it be over,” Gary hissed back. “Goodness, Shell, I thought that was what you wanted. To get this murder solved and get your name cleared so you could get on with your life, start up your new business and . . .” He glanced significantly toward the doorway. “Maybe have a date or two with the detective when you aren’t a murder suspect.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve got a feeling Josh isn’t very satisfied with the way this case wrapped up either,” I snapped.
“The evidence says otherwise.” Gary started to tick off on his fingers. “There’s the note, written in her handwriting, confessing to the crime. There’ the fact her handwriting is identical to the one on the note Amelia received. There’s—”
“Another point I don’t understand,” I interrupted. “That first note referred to the fact I’d discovered her secret. Just what secret was that, anyway?”
“Maybe Londra was just bluffing. Or maybe she was referring to Amelia’s affair with Peabody, intimating that you’d found out.”
“I found out well after that. And how would Londra know about it?”
“Small town. Big on gossip.”
“Maybe.” I pushed the heel of my hand through my hair. “The whole thing doesn’t make any sense. Plus, I have trouble wrapping my head around the fact she and Mel were involved. I mean, she seemed so nice and Mel was just . . . oh, I don’t know, her total opposite. I know opposites are supposed to attract, but in that case . . .” I gave my head a brisk shake. “I can’t figure it.”
“Yet you have no problem with Feller and the mayor being involved.” Gary threw up both hands. “You’re impossible, Shell. You just won’t let this go.”
“I’m sorry, but no, I can’t. Everyone said that Londra also hated Amelia because she kept passing her over for a docent position at the museum. Someone who wants to climb the ladder wouldn’t endanger her career chances by signing for a shipment and then taking knives she never planned to return, let alone take their own life. It would have been too easy for her to get caught.”
“Maybe she thought she’d put the knives back before anyone noticed they were missing. Maybe her plan backfired, and Feller wanted to keep the knives, persuaded her not to return them.”
“I doubt that. For one thing, if he loved her, he wouldn’t want her to get in trouble, and for another, I still don’t think they were a couple.”
Gary walked over to me, leaned over, put both hands on my shoulders and gave me a hard shake. “Snap out of it,” he said. “I thought you liked that guy?”
“I do,” I said miserably.
“You could have fooled me. After all, Shell—”
The rest of his sentence was cut off by a loud thunk! from the hallway. I froze. “The bust,” I cried. We hurried out, and both of us gasped as we saw Edgar Allan and the Raven, lying on its side on the floor.
“How did that fall?” Gary asked. He pointed to the low table I’d set the bust on. “That was square in the center, I know it was. Good thing it fell on the rug. It doesn’t look chipped.”
I glanced over at the staircase. Kahlua sat on the top step. She raised her paw, pointed to the back of the bust. I shifted my gaze, saw a blur of white move. “I have an idea,” I said.
Purrday peeped around the corner of the bust.
Gary stared, then burst out laughing. “Oh, man. The cat knocked it over? He’s pretty strong.”
I went over and stood over Purrday, my hands fisted on my hips. “What do you have to say for yourself, young man?” I asked the cat. “What’s the fascination with Mr. Poe?”
Purrday let out a loud yowl, then lifted his paw and started clawing at Edgar’s neck.
“Purrday,” I admonished the cat, stooping to grab him. “Stop that. You’ll get scratches on it.”
The cat let out another sound, somewhere between a howl and a hiss, that had me backing off. Then he lifted his paw and smacked Edgar full across the neck. The bust rolled a few inches and stopped right at my feet.
“Bad boy!” I said, shaking my finger at Purrday.
“Ow-orr,” said Kahlua from her perch on the top step. She seemed to be enjoying her brother’s plight. Of course she was. She’d given him up, hadn’t she?
Purrday merely swished his tail, hopped up on the table, and sat straight, his blue eye trained on me. “Merow,” he yowled.
“Say, look here.” Gary had dropped to his knees next to the bust. “Purrday did break old Edgar after all.”
I followed Gary’s pointing finger and saw a portion of Edgar’s neck had separated from the rest of the bust. I kneeled as well to examine the damage. Curiously, the cracks were straight lines.
“It’s not broken,” I said. “It looks as if whoever made the bust put a hidden compartment in it.”
“Clever,” said Gary. “Like a hiding place for valuables. And it seems as if your cat’s taken full advantage of it.” He pointed to the cavity and I could see the tail end of Purrday’s catnip mouse protruding. Gary reached inside the cavity and pulled out the mouse, two soft balls, and the wooden button.
Purrday jumped off the table and walked over to Gary, his tail erect. He lifted one paw and pointed to the hand that held the button. “Merow.”
Gary dropped the button in front of the cat. “Picking
the button over the mouse? That’s a switch.”
“Not really. The button might still have my aunt’s scent on it,” I said. I looked at Purrday. “You still miss Aunt Tillie, don’t you? I do too. I bet she’d agree with me on this case, too.” I rolled my eyes heavenward. “Aunt Matilda, if you agree with me, give me a sign.”
“Oh, geez.” Gary started to laugh, then stopped abruptly as Purrday started to push the button in my direction. From where we were standing, the initial carved into it looked more like an M than a W.
“M,” I said triumphantly, bending down to take the button out of Purrday’s claws. “It seems to be the initial du jour of this case. M stands for murder . . . mayor . . . museum . . .”
“Matilda,” said Gary practically as he pushed the compartment back into place and set the bust back on the table. “Your aunt had double-duty initials. MW. Matilda Washburn. It’s a practical button, just like your aunt was a practical woman.”
“Exactly the reason why she would have agreed with me,” I said, bending down to give Purrday a pat on the head, and his button back. “Take this and stop hitting poor Poe.” My head was swimming with information. I couldn’t help but feel all the pieces of this jigsaw puzzle were there, I just had to put them into place. But where to start?
I turned to Gary. “Did you get that fax from the specialty shop yet?”
“Nope. Why?”
“Can you contact them and ask them to fax over both bills of lading—the original marked complete as well as the amended?”
“Sure,” he said in a puzzled tone, “but why?”
“Just do it, please. I’ve got a hunch.”
He shook his head and started back toward the den again. I sat down on one of the stools, my thoughts whirling. It was just a hunch, but a good one, I thought. And if I was right . . .
I flicked my iPhone back into call mode and scrolled down to Secondhand Sue’s number. A few minutes later I had the assistant manager, Iris, on the line.
The Time for Murder Is Meow Page 24
