A Mew to a Kill (24 page)

“I made fresh lemonade.”

I didn’t want to be impolite, so I figured I’d stay for a quick drink. I looked around while she busied herself in the kitchen.

A mirror that was designed to look like a big, old window hung on the wall. I caught my reflection in it and realized I had smudges of garbage on my shirt. I tried to brush them off hastily, thankful that at least I’d worn the good shirt I bought the other day—the one with the Eiffel Tower on it. Except … the words were backwards … no, not backwards they just looked that way in the mirror.

Below the mirror was a small, black table with pictures in silver frames. They looked like pictures of Brenda, but I assume they must be Amanda because who keeps photographs of themselves like that? I remembered what Hattie had said about the part and double checked. The hair was parted on the left, so it must be Amanda. I felt a pang of sympathy for Brenda.

“It must be hard for you to look at these photos in the portfolio. Especially the one of your sister. I’m very sorry about what happened.”

Brenda’s voice took on a sad tone. “Yes, it was a very hard time for me. I was away at a convention when the fire happened and have never forgiven myself.”

She finished pouring the lemonade, picked up two glasses and came over to me. I tore my attention from the photos of Amanda … something in them had caught my eye.

She held the glass out to me, her charm bracelet jangling against it as she put it in my hand.
 

“Have some.” She must have been really proud of the lemonade because it seemed like she was really eager for me to try it.
 

I took a small sip. It needed more sugar. My lips puckered at the bitter taste.

“It’s good,” I lied. The photos of Amanda tugged at my attention and I turned back to look at them. One of the photos in particular caught my interest. In it, Amanda was leaning against a car. I looked closer. My heart froze.
 

It wasn’t a car—it was a black truck … just like the one that had run me down.

I glanced at my shirt in the mirror again and couldn’t help my sharp intake of breath. Everything clicked at once. The room started to swim in front of me.

I’d thought Brenda had an adverse reaction to Paisley’s portfolio because of the subject matter, but I’d only been partly right—she didn’t want those pictures on display because it proved that she’d lied about where she was that day. Everyone thought the picture was of Amanda because her hair was parted on the left, but the Founder’s Day picture had been taken in the
reflection
of the window, which meant the part was really on the right.
 

That was Brenda in the picture. And she couldn’t risk someone figuring it out and getting curious as to why she would have lied about her whereabouts. I remembered Elspeth saying that Brenda and Amanda didn’t run the business as well as their parents. They were losing money, but they had good insurance. Brenda had burned it down on purpose for the insurance money. Had she meant to kill Amanda, too, or was that really an accident?

I glanced at the charm bracelet on her wrist, my pulse quickening. Was it missing one charm?

I realized that if Brenda had seen Maisie at Paisley’s, then that meant she was in town that night, too. My mind flicked to the cat on the porch and her unusual toy. A purple sharpie, just like the one that had written the note. My stomach sank with the realization that Brenda had written both notes and somehow killed Paisley and then set Maisie up for it.

My eyes flicked up to Brenda’s face. She was studying me, her head cocked to the side.
 

“I just remembered. I’m late for an appointment.” My voice felt thick. I put the glass down and stumbled backward to the front door, which I jerked open as fast as I could.

I pivoted around, ready to run … and came face to face with Kenny Brown pointing a gun right at my chest.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

My heart jerked in my chest. I felt woozy.

Kenny's eyes narrowed. "I knew the two of you were in cahoots."

My forehead creased in confusion. "What? We're not in cahoots."

"Yeah, right." He crowded me in the door, motioning with his gun for me to get back inside and I reluctantly stepped backwards. Before he slammed the door, I could see Pandora outside in the yard, craning her neck to look in.

"Get over there with her." Kenny jerked the gun in Brenda's direction.
 

I raised my hands in front of me. "Wait a minute. I'm not in on it with her."

"Sure you are. That's why you were nosing around my sister's shop. Probably trying to get rid of evidence."

"No. I was trying to
find
evidence to figure out who the killer was." I refrained from saying that I had thought it was him.

Kenny ignored me and addressed Brenda. "What I can't figure out is why you tried to run her down the other night. Did she try to double-cross you?"

"You saw her try to run me down?" I cut in.

Kenny nodded. "I was in the alley. Who do you think called 911? Though I probably should've left you there, knowing that you had a role in killing my sister. I recognized the truck right away as Amanda's truck. I knew it was still kept at the lumberyard and only Brenda and I have access to get in. And since I knew I wasn't driving the truck, that only left one other person."

Brenda snorted. "I was looking for that stupid computer to get rid of your sister's pictures. I wouldn't even have known she had them on there if it weren't for what Willa said in the judges’ meeting.
 
Anyway, I didn't find one and when I saw Willa snooping at the front door, I thought I could get rid of her and make it look like an accident."

"Looks like that didn't work out the way you planned," Kenny said.

Brenda glared at him. "I never liked you. Especially when you were cleared of setting the fire. You were supposed to be my scapegoat."

I whipped my head around to face Brenda. The movement made me dizzy. "You tried to frame him for the lumberyard fire?"

Brenda laughed. "Yep. It would have worked perfectly, too, except he had an airtight alibi with Father Tim."

I stared at her incredulously. "So, you really did set it. And you killed your own sister."

"That was a mistake!" Brenda said sharply. "She should never have been there, but she was looking after that stupid kitten."

"The one on your porch," I said.
 

"That's right. I can't stand the way that cat looks at me … as if it knows what I did. It was in there that day, watching me. I should have gotten rid of it long ago, but for some reason, I couldn't."

My legs felt weak. I swayed on my feet. I glanced at my lemonade glass, remembering the bitter taste. "You put something in my drink."

Brenda had been slowly backing toward the kitchen. She laughed again. It was a high, shrill sound. "That's right. I wanted to be sure you would cooperate. But now that he's here screwing things up, I might have to have a little change in plans. But that's okay. I can improvise."

"Stop right there." Kenny raised his gun and I saw a flash of white launch toward Kenny. It was the white Persian cat! It must have snuck in when the door was open. The cat flew into Kenny's right arm, knocking the gun to the floor. It slid under the couch. Kenny stumbled sideways, then caught himself but it was too late. Brenda had made it to the kitchen and flung open a drawer. She turned, a gun of her own in her hand, its aim hovering between me and Kenny.

The white cat trotted to her side and purred loudly.

"Now, isn't this nice," she cackled. "Not exactly how I planned it, but I think I can make it work."

 
Kenny looked stricken. He glanced from me to Brenda and then back to me. "You really aren't in cahoots?"

 
"No. Why did you even think that?" I asked.

"You were so nosy, coming around my place and breaking into my sister's shop."

"Shut up!" Brenda advanced on us with the gun. "Put your hands up and turn around. We're going to take a trip out to the shed. I have it all prepared."

We had no choice but to follow her instructions. Kenny opened the door and we went outside with Brenda and the cat behind us. My mind whirled, trying to think of a way to escape, but my thoughts were fuzzy and disjointed. What had she given me? I was just glad I hadn't had more of the lemonade or I would probably be out cold by now.
 

She led us out to a cedar toolshed with a barn-shaped door and colorful flowers planted neatly along the front. I probably would have admired it if she wasn't planning to kill me in it. She made Kenny slide the door open and we peered into a dark, windowless interior filled with rakes, shovels and other tools. A potting bench stood at one end. The overwhelming odor of kerosene churned my stomach.

She pressed the gun to Kenny's back. "Get inside."

He stepped in and she put her palm on my back and pushed. I stumbled, my injured shoulder exploding in pain as I smashed into a hook on the wall. My legs turned to jelly and I collapsed to the floor. I was in no shape to try to take her, even though I could see Kenny was thinking about it.

"What are you going to do?" I asked.

"You've been a thorn in my side, so I'm getting rid of you. If only you'd butted out and not asked so many questions. But I could tell it was only a matter of time before you figured out who really killed Paisley." Brenda beamed with pride. "And this is the perfect set-up to get rid of both of you. With Kenny's past accusations with the lumberyard fire, no one will think twice about him getting revenge on his sister's killer and burning you in the shed. Too bad he's going to get caught in the fire himself," she said.

I stared at her. "You're crazy. Why would I be in your shed? How are you going to explain that?"

"Simple. You came to steal the portfolio from me because it proved that you killed Paisley." The white cat wove around Brenda's ankles, purring as she talked
 

"Huh? What proof? No one is going to believe that."

"Oh, they will. Especially once I slip the note in there that you wrote demanding to meet with Paisley the night she died. That's all the proof I will need."

"You mean a note just like the ones you sent to Paisley and Maisie?" I asked.

Brenda nodded. "Yes, wasn't that clever? I got Maisie to the shop with the note and she and Paisley had it out. I timed it just right so that I could make sure Sophie would see them together when I was at the pharmacy. Then I snuck in the back and waited for Maisie to leave.
 
I clonked Paisley and took a picture of Maisie getting into her car to make it look like Paisley had gotten off the shot as she lay dying. Maisie is so slow, I had plenty of time. Of course, I didn't count on George setting the place on fire and damaging the camera … or on you messing things up with your meddling.
 
But no worries, I can adapt."

"But I have no motive."

"Sure you do. Jealousy. You see, you were in love with Neil Lane."

"What?" I struggled to stand up, but my legs didn't want to cooperate. "I didn't even know him."

"That’s where you were so clever, Willa. You kept it a secret from everyone. You didn't want your sheriff boyfriend to find out because you wanted to keep him available to feed you information, so you could meddle in these investigations." She smiled. "But I have a picture of you at Neil's house on one of your secret rendezvous. Yes, I know you were there with your tea-pushing friend Pepper, but I cleverly cropped her out of the picture. So everyone will just see you meeting Neil Lane at his house in the woods."

"And what about him." I jerked my head in Kenny's direction.

"Why, Kenny here found out and confronted you. He suspected you killed Paisley and followed you here. It's funny, because that's not too far from the truth."
 

"And how do you plan to explain us both being in your shed?" I tried to keep her talking while Kenny figured out a way to get us out of this. At least I hoped that's what he was doing, because with my brain as confused as it was, I was in no condition to do it.
 

"Easy. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Kenny came over in a mad rage to kill you. Unfortunately, there was nothing I could do to save you. He knocked me out and when I woke up, you were both dead already. Of course, clonking myself on the back of the head to make it look authentic won’t be easy, but I'll have to do it. I've practiced a few times already. I'm just lucky he didn't kill me, too. Silly boy, he must have gotten caught in his own fire. But that makes it nice and tidy for the police."

I didn't doubt Brenda had practice clocking herself on the head already. She was acting like she had scrambled her brains.
 

"That’s crazy. No one is going to believe that." Would they?

Brenda's eyes narrowed. "I think they will. It wasn't my original plan, but this is even better because now instead of just framing Kenny, he will be dead here in the shed. Apparently, he was knocked out while setting the fire. Caught in his own trap, so to speak. He won't be able to deny it or prove that he didn't do it. Of course, I
will
have to disable him because now I can't lock the shed door to keep you in, or the police will wonder how it got locked with Kenny inside. It's too bad I didn't get to offer him any of my lemonade. That would render him useless, just like it did to you." Brenda nodded at the way I was trying to scramble up onto my Jell-O legs. "You know, Willa, it's too bad you didn't drink more of that. You'd be passed out now. You wouldn't feel a thing. But instead, now you will burn alive. Drinking more of the lemonade would really have been best, and there's no worry of it coming out in a toxicology report since your bodies will be burned to a crisp."