Probable Paws (Mystic Notch Cozy Mystery Series Book 5) (11 page)

Striker pursed his lips as he studied the ground. “I doubt the killer would bury something in this field. It’s out in the open. If you were burying evidence that implicated you in a murder, would you bury it in an open field like this?”

He had a point. “I guess not. I wouldn’t want to be seen, so I’d probably stick to the more secluded gardens near the house.”

“It was probably just a dog that came out here and buried a bone,” Striker suggested. “Pandora must’ve smelled it and wanted to dig it up.”

I reluctantly let Striker lead me away. He was probably right.

“So what made you come here tonight, anyway?” Striker asked. “Are you following me?”

“
Me
following
you
?” I was pretty sure that
he
had been following
me
. “What are you talking about?”

“I saw you everywhere today. Passed you on the way into town. Saw you at the cafe. What gives?” He glanced down at me, his face softening. “Not that I don’t like seeing you everywhere...or having you chase after me.”

“I’m not chasing after you,” I huffed. Images of the oversized glass of Pepper’s togetherness tea that I’d guzzled down the night before came to mind. Was the tea bringing us together? Normally I’d be happy, but right now I needed time away from Striker, or I’d never be able to find the darn spell book.

Striker walked me to my Jeep, opened the door, and tucked me inside. He leaned down to talk to me through the open window.

“I’d love to stay and chat, but I’m on duty.” A flicker of emotion softened his gray eyes. “It seems like we’re ships passing in the night lately, but I’d like to remedy that.”

My stomach did a flip-flop, and I looked into his sincere gray eyes. “Me too.”

“Good. Then if you stop butting into my case, I can get it finished quickly, and we can schedule in some time…alone.” He leaned in and dropped a soft kiss on my lips, then before I could say a word he turned and strode back to his sheriff car.

I felt a little disappointed that he hadn’t made any more solid plans. Then again, it was probably for the best. Even if we managed to carve out some alone time, I was sure Adelaide’s ghost would ruin it.

T
he moon peeked
out from behind a cloud, illuminating the ground around the Hamilton mansion. Pandora didn’t need a full moon to see, nor did the dozens of cats who had volunteered for the mission and were now sitting in strategic spots around the house, with their extrasensory skills dialed up to the highest notch.

The cats surrounded the house, forming the shape of a pentagram. The shape amplified the cat's skills, giving them extreme sensitivity to items of magical powers. Alone, each cat was able to sense magic. Good and evil. But pinpointing a small item within a large space was only possible when they combined their efforts.

Pandora scrunched up her nose, concentrating on her abilities and homing in on the house, but it was no use. She didn’t feel a thing.

“I’m not feeling it,” said Dewey, as if reading her mind. Dewey’s white chest glowed in the moonlight, the orange tips of his striped fur standing on end from the static electricity generated by the cats’ paranormal efforts. Dewey was formerly one of the feral cats of Mystic Notch who had found a forever home and had volunteered to help on this important mission.

“Me either,” Pandora said and turned to the cat on the other side of her, an older but very wise Siamese named Thunder. “What about you?”

“Not a thing.”

Inkspot appeared beside her. “It seems as if the book is no longer in the house…if it ever was there.”

“I know. Maybe Willa was wrong. At least now I can discourage her from coming here…” Something at the edge of the field caught Pandora’s eye. A splash of light illuminated the daisy field in front of the stone cottage. A familiar scent drifted over to her. The scent of her human. Willa and Striker were looking at the area she’d dug in the other night. She’d sensed something there, but her senses had not been dialed up, and she’d not had the benefit of other cat companions, so she wasn’t sure if it was something as important as a spell book.

“Isn’t that your human?” Inkspot asked.

“Yes. I dug there the other night. There is something there … but I couldn’t be sure what. Perhaps it is the book.”

“We should check it out after the humans have—”

“Stop that! You’re stealing Hamilton family heirlooms!” a woman’s voice blared from the house.

“I’m not stealing. This stuff is as much mine as it is yours.” A second woman’s voice. “Tell her, David!”

“Well, technically Mom’s will never said anything about the household items—” The man’s voice was so soft that Pandora had to angle her ears forward to pick up the words.

“Oh sure, you won’t say boo to anyone in your family, even your weirdo son. What’s he doing out in the cottage, anyway? Probably watching porn.”

“My nephew is not watching porn.”

“How would you know, Josie? You can’t even keep track of your own daughters. Why, one of them is upstairs with that boyfriend of hers doing God knows what right now.”

“We weren’t doing anything up there!” a young girl’s voice cut in.

“That’s right. My girls are good girls.”

“Good girls?” The original woman snorted. “Why, look at the way this one dresses. She looks like Elvira. And anyway, how would you know? You’re usually three sheets to the wind.”

“I am not three sheetsh to the wind.” The words were slightly slurred.

“What’s that in your hand? Is that great-great-great-grandma Hamilton’s flow blue soup tureen? That came over on the Mayflower!” A different young female voice this time.

“Put that stuff down. How many times do I have to tell you not to be selling off the family goods?” This time a crotchety-sounding old lady.

“You’re not the boss of me,” the accused stealer said. “And who are you to say, anyway? You aren’t even part of the Hamilton family, Marion.”

“Why, I never!”

Pandora worried that the old woman, whom she now realized was Adelaide’s wheelchair-bound twin sister, was going to have a coronary, by the shrill sound of her voice.

“Shhh… Auntie Marion. Don’t listen to her. Come outside. The cool night will calm you.”

The door on the side of the house opened, and a dark-haired girl rolled Marion out onto the stone patio. From everything Pandora had heard, she assumed that girl was Adelaide’s granddaughter Evie. The argument continued inside, but Pandora zoned them out and focused on the two women on the patio.

“Now calm down, Aunty. It’s not good to get too excited at your age.”

“Did you see her? She’ll rob us blind!”

“No, she won’t. We’ll stop her. Now take a deep breath and look up at the beautiful moon. That will calm you down.”

“You and your moon. It doesn’t have any powers, you know.”

“I think it’s very soothing. Do you want me to wheel you around the grounds or through the fields like the other day?”

“No! I can wheel myself around quite nicely, thank you very much.”

Evie wrestled a flyaway hair into place, only to have it zing out again. Pandora’s own hairs were still feeling the effects of the static electricity, though that was waning now, as most of the cats had dialed down their senses.

“Okay then, we’ll just sit out here and …” Evie’s voice broke off, and she turned in Pandora’s direction, craning her neck and squinting her eyes. Pandora shuddered. It was almost as if the girl could see right into her.

“Do you see something out there?” Evie asked.

“What? No, there’s nothing out there, silly girl.”

“It sounds like there is much unrest among the humans.” Otis had come up to join them. His words drew Pandora’s attention from the two women.

“Yes. But that is none of our affair,” Inkspot said. “We have done what we came to do. The spell book is not in that house.”

Otis turned a concerned eye toward the Hamilton mansion, his gaze drifting over the two women on the patio to the lighted windows of the house. “The spell book is not, but somebody evil is.”

“That’s hardly news. We know we need to watch out for one of them.” Inkspot turned his head toward the stone cottage. “Pandora’s human is gone now. We can go see what is so important in the field.”

Most of the other cats had dispersed, their mission complete. Even though they had not located the book of spells, at least they knew one place where it was not. Pandora led Inkspot, Otis, and a few of the others from Elspeth’s barn to the spot in the daisy field. Though it was dark, they could clearly see the marks where she had dug the night before.

Pandora sniffed the earth, the sour smell of fear curling her whiskers. “There is something in here, but I don’t think it’s the book.”

Otis’s whiskers twitched, his nose pointing in the air. “There is much here. I smell hopes and dreams, memories and aspirations, fear and death.” He looked around at them dramatically. “But no magic.”

Pandora sniffed again. She hadn’t smelled all that. But Otis had been periodically exhibiting extraordinary powers ever since he drank a magic extract that nearly killed him. She assumed it had affected his power of smell.

The other cats took turns checking the area out, some of them putting their noses close to the ground, others scenting the air. They all agreed something was buried there, but it was not the book of spells.

Sasha turned in a slow circle, sniffing the air. “The good news is that I don’t smell Fluff. He must not be onto this place.”

“Well, since the spell book isn’t here, that’s no surprise. Maybe he was smarter than us and knew not to come here.”

“Smarter?” Kelley scoffed. “I don’t think so.”

“Now what?” Snowball, her white fur gleaming silver in the moonlight, asked. “How will we get the spell book to Elspeth?”

“We have to figure out where it is, or depend on the humans to do it,” Inkspot said. “Either way, it better happen soon. I sense that time is not on our side.”

T
he next day
I went to the Hamilton house again on the pretext of having lost something when I was visiting the day before. John, the butler, had actually given me the idea when I’d visited with Pepper. I knew it was kind of lame, but I had to get back into that library. The cottage had been a bust, and the library was my only lead.

I stood at the door, mustering my courage to knock, when a car pulled into the driveway behind me.

I turned to look, my stomach plummeting at the sight of the brown Crown Victoria sheriff car. Striker!

I tried not to wilt under his glare as he exited the car and mounted the steps. ”What are you doing here?”

“I left something here the other day.”

Striker’s brow creased into a “V” of suspicion. “What?”

“A bracelet my grandmother—”

I was saved from elaborating on the lie by the door opening. For once I was glad to see the annoying butler, whose skeptical eyes darted from me to Striker. At least Striker, in his brown sheriff uniform, looked as if he was there on official business. “Is there a problem?”

John’s eyes flicked back to me when he said “problem,” as if he associated the very word with me.

“I’d like to talk to Josie Hamilton, if I may,” Striker said.

John hesitated then opened the door, inviting Striker in. I slipped in behind him, hoping I could just tag along and eavesdrop on Striker’s conversation. I assumed he was there to question Josie about Max’s surveillance footage of her leaving the house the morning of Adelaide’s death.

John led us to the sitting room and excused himself to summon Josie.

“What are you still doing here?” Striker hissed.

“Looking for my bracelet.” I grappled under the cushion for the fictional bracelet. “I think I lost it when I was here the other day.”

Striker slid skeptical eyes in my direction. “What bracelet? I don’t know how you knew I would be coming here now, but I think you’re just trying to spy—”

“You wanted to speak to me?” Josie interrupted as she entered the room.

“Just a few questions,” Striker said.

“Whatever for?” Josie’s voice wobbled nervously. “Is it one of my girls? Julie’s boyfriend, Brian?”

“No, none of that. I just have some questions about the morning your mother died.”

“Oh.” The air whooshed out of her, and she collapsed in a chair. “It was so awful. I loved my mother deeply.”

Striker’s brow ticked up. “Of course. And where were you that morning?”

Her eyes snapped over to him. “What do you mean, where was I? I was here in the house. I live here.”

“So you were in the house when it was discovered that your mother had passed?”

Josie looked down, picking at the hem of her off-white linen shirt. “Yes.”

“Another family member mentioned you weren’t in your room.”

Josie looked up, her eyes narrowing. “That’s right. I was in the library. I’d fallen asleep in there.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure! Why are you asking all these questions anyway? Wait a minute. Are you implying there was something suspicious about my mother’s death?” Josie shook her head. “No. Mom had cancer. She died in her sleep…she looked very peaceful.”

“How do you know that? Your family said you didn’t show up until after the ambulance came.”

This was getting interesting. I didn’t dare move—I didn’t want to interrupt the line of questioning or for Striker to ease up so that I wouldn’t overhear.

“Just why are you asking this?” Josie repeated.

“We have reason to believe there may have been some foul play. I’m just checking all the angles.”

Josie’s eyes welled. She fiddled with the bottom of her shirt some more. “And you think I know something about it?”

“Well, ma’am, I have conflicting testimony. You say you were there, but your family members say you didn’t come until the ambulance was almost leaving. You could see how that might look a little funny, can’t you?”

First she looked indignant, then uncertain, then her face crumbled, and she sobbed into her hands. “You don’t understand. It’s so hard…”

“Understand what, ma’am?” Striker remained impassive.

My head ping-ponged between Striker and Josie. Maybe she would confess and then tell us where the book was.

She sniffed a loud, wet sniff and plucked a tissue out of the holder beside her chair. “I wasn’t really lying. I was here…well, for most of the time.”

“Okay, tell me what happened.” Striker used his most persuasive voice.

“I looked in on my mother, and she looked uncomfortable. I had forgotten to fill a prescription the day before … so I ran out to the pharmacy. When I came back, she was… well, the EMTs were here.” She dissolved into a round of sobbing.

I remembered Gus’s phone call where the medical examiner had said they found opiates in Adelaide’s blood. If she was doped up that much, how could she have been uncomfortable? Wouldn’t Josie have noticed her mother was drugged up? And if Josie had forgotten to fill the prescription, where did the drugs in her system come from?

“Why did you lie about where you were?” Striker asked.

She waved her hands in the air and hiccuped. “The family is so nosy, always wanting to know everything. I didn’t think it was any of their business. I didn’t want them getting on me because I forgot to fill the darn prescription.”

“So when you looked in on your mother, she was still alive?”

“Yes,” she whispered, her gaze dropping to the floor.

“Are you sure?”

“What are you trying to imply?”

“Well, it just seems odd that you would look in on her and then leave, and not an hour later she’s found dead.”

“Are you trying to say I had something to do with it? She was an old woman. She was ill. I don’t see why you think someone killed her.”

“Did you notice anything unusual about her? Did you see anyone coming or going to her room that morning?”

Josie chewed her bottom lip. Trying to remember, or making up a lie? “I didn’t notice anything unusual. She was so still in the bed. I didn’t see anyone near her room.”

“Can anyone corroborate your story? Someone who might have seen you, maybe someone in one of the bedrooms near yours or your mother’s?”

“Only Evie and Julie are in my wing. They were asleep.”

“You didn’t see either of them?”

“No.”

“What time were you in her room?” Striker asked.

“I think it was around seven-thirty. I wasn’t exactly looking at my watch.”

“Is it part of your normal routine, then, to check on her that early?”

“No, actually, I usually get up much later, but something out in the hallway woke me.”

“Something?”

“A noise. Squeaking.”

“So someone else was out there?”

Josie shrugged. “I guess so. I figured it might be the butler lurking around or using the dumbwaiter to bring up linens. That old thing is across from my room, and it makes a lot of noises.”

“But you didn’t see him or anyone else?”

She shook her head.

“According to the police report, your mother’s room is at the north end of the hall from yours. Your two daughters are at the south end. Are there stairs at either end for access?”

“No. Mom’s suite is at the very end. The only way to get to it is to walk past the girls’ room then mine since the only entry point is the south end of the hall, where the main stairway is located.”

“So your daughters might have seen something. Would either of them be up at that time?”

Josie shook her head. “No. They sleep in. If you are implying one of them had something to do with this…”

Striker held up his hand. “Not at all. Just trying to find someone to verify your whereabouts.”

“Verify her whereabouts? Someone needs to, because she usually can’t.” Lisa glared at me from the doorway, then her eyes settled on Striker. She straightened, and a predatory smile bloomed on her face. “Well, hello there.”

I didn’t like the way she sashayed into the room or the way she was looking at Striker, but I knew he was almost done questioning Josie, and I had better make my excuses to get into library quickly. Besides, if Lisa was kept busy in here, then I wouldn’t worry about running into her trying to steal the family fortune in there.

“Excuse me.” All eyes swiveled in my direction. “May I use the bathroom?”

Striker shot me a look, but I plastered a benign smile on my face and ignored him.

“Certainly,” Josie said. “It’s in the hall and to the left.”

I practically jumped off the sofa and hurried into the hall. I peeked into the library, grateful that the room was empty. I slipped inside and pushed the door almost shut, enough so no one walking by could glance in and see me but so that I could also hear if someone came down the hall.

I went right to the painting. I’d already looked at most of the books in the shelves underneath, and a glance at the rest didn’t yield anything titled
Betty’s Recipes
. What about the painting itself—could there be a safe or hiding spot behind it? I grabbed the edges, thinking to lift it off the wall, but the darn thing weighed a ton. I tugged, but it wouldn’t budge. Was it glued to the wall?

I tilted my head to look at the bottom. Slipping my fingers underneath, I pushed it out from the wall just to see if there was a safe or niche in the wall behind it. There was no safe or niche. I let the painting thud back against the wall with a sigh, and that was when I saw it. The nameplate on the bottom. Daisy Edgars-Hamilton.

Just as Adelaide had implied, she hadn’t been referring to the daisy
flower
, she’d been referring to her ancestor—Daisy.

“What are you doing?”

Striker was standing in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest.

“What? Oh. Nothing.” I couldn’t tell him about Daisy, because if I did I’d have to tell him about the spell book and Adelaide’s ghost. I didn’t want to hold out on information that might help his investigation, but nothing I’d discovered provided additional clues into Adelaide’s murder.

“That seems like a funny place to look for your bracelet,” he said.

“What bracelet?”

“Just as I thought.” He grabbed me by the hand and pulled me from the room. “You’re up to something, aren’t you?”

“Me? No.” He propelled me toward the front door, nodding to John as the butler opened it for us.

We stepped onto the granite steps, and the door shut.

“What did you find out?” Striker asked me.

“Nothing. I’d seen Lisa in the library before and thought maybe there might be a clue in there.” Technically, that wasn’t a lie. “What did you find out? Do you know why someone would have killed Adelaide? You don’t think it was Josie, her own daughter, do you?”

“I’m not sure if Josie is the killer.” Striker glanced back at the house. “But I am sure about one thing. Josie Hamilton was lying about something.”