Sweetness and Light (A Sweet Cove Mystery Book 5) (11 page)

Distrust skittered over Angie’s skin from what seemed like lies slipping like snakes from this powerful woman’s mouth.  Angie’s impression was that this sister either didn’t know her younger brother very well or she was a very good liar.

Courtney looked at Georgia.  “Were you in Sweet Cove the night Nelson died?”

“No, I wasn’t.  I was in New York.  My brother, Geoffrey, called me with the terrible news.  I couldn’t believe it.”

Courtney continued.  “Do you have any idea who could be behind this?  Did Nelson have enemies?”

“Nelson was a sweetheart.  Everyone loved him.”

Obviously not everyone
, Angie thought.  “We’ve heard he enjoyed partying.”

“Nelson was young.  Doesn’t every young person party sometimes?”

Angie felt chilled and anxious, shaken by Georgia’s comment about psychics and her seemingly false statements about her brother.  Georgia moved one hand to her shoulder and rubbed at the tension gathered there.  The movement caused her expensive, Chanel shoulder bag to slip to the floor with a thunk.  Some of the contents spilled onto the floor.  Georgia and Angie bent to gather up the items.

“I’ve been so clumsy lately.”

Angie picked up a small wallet, lipstick, a cancelled train ticket, and a pack of tissues and handed them to Georgia.  Just then an older couple approached to speak with the blonde woman and Angie and Courtney moved away into the crowd.

Courtney whispered.  “She’s weird.  She either didn’t know her brother at all, which I doubt, or she’s very good at spinning a fictional story about how great Nelson was.”

“I wonder if she’s had too much to drink.”  Angie tried to shake off her unease.  “She freaked me out with that question about us being psychics.”

The two girls decided to separate in order to cover more territory.  As Angie walked around the crowd in the living room trying to eavesdrop on discussions, the core of her body went cold again as if a flood of ice water had shot through her veins.  The suddenness of the sensation made her woozy and she reached out to grasp a side table.  Taking some deep breaths, she realized she hadn’t seen Mr. Finch in some time and a flash of worry washed over her.  She turned towards the far end of the living area to the room where the memorial service was held.  Her heart thundered.

Something was wrong.  She walked briskly towards the entrance of the room and with each step her feelings of dread ratcheted up a notch.  When she was halfway across the living room, a black cat ran from the room on the far side of the space, stopped in her tracks, and swiveled her head searching the living area.

Circe!

Angie and the black cat made eye contact.  The creature whirled and raced back from where she had come.  Angie’s heart jumped into her throat.  She bolted across the room in record time.
 

Chapter 14

Angie burst into the enormous room where the memorial service had been held. A man stood a few feet from her.  “The service is over.  We’re cleaning up in here.”

“Did you see an older man come in?  He walks with a cane.”  Angie panted from the adrenaline rushing through her body.

The worker looked blankly at the young woman.

“Did you notice a cat?  Black.  She just came in here.”

He glanced about the space.  “No cats in here.”

Angie ignored the man and rushed further into the room.  “Circe!  Mr. Finch!”  She peered under the seats, looked behind the podium, spun about trying to find Finch or the cat.  Thrumming started to beat in her veins.  She stopped short, and then turned slowly in a circle.  She saw a partially closed door on the other side of the room.  She hurried over, and grabbed the knob.

“No one’s supposed to be in here now.”  The man called to Angie.  “Miss, you need to go back to the main reception room.”

Angie shouted, “Call the police.”  She pushed open the door and stepped into a dark hallway.  Sweat trickled down her back.  She edged along the space.  “Mr. Finch!  Circe!”  She caught herself in mid-yell realizing she was foolishly announcing her presence.

After advancing down the hall several yards, Angie heard the meow of a cat.  She ran forward and again heard Circe’s mew.  It came from a room on the right side of the hallway.

She peeked into the large space that was decorated as a den and she saw Circe leaning over Mr. Finch prone on the Oriental rug in front of a massive desk.  Angie’s blood roared in her ears.  She rushed forward and knelt.  She felt for a pulse.  The side of Mr. Finch’s head was covered in blood.

Angie whispered.  “Mr. Finch.”  She could feel the faint beat of a pulse on his neck.  “Who did this?” she mumbled.

Circe licked the man’s cheek.

“Good Girl.” Angie’s voice trembled.  “Sweet cat.”

She pulled out her phone and placed an emergency call for an ambulance and then she texted Jenna. While she sat on the floor next to Mr. Finch holding his hand and whispering his name, tears formed in Angie’s eyes and fell, one by one, onto the older man’s wrinkled face.

After several minutes passed, which seemed like hours to Angie, she heard Jenna’s voice shouting for her.  She directed her sister to the den by calling out.

Jenna rushed in, her eyes wide, her face pale.  She knelt beside Angie.  “Is he…?”

“He’s alive.  I can feel his pulse.”

Mr. Finch stirred.  He turned his head to the side and coughed.  His eyes popped open and he winced.  “What…?”

“It’s okay.”  Angie squeezed his hand.  “Medical help is on the way.  You hit your head.  You’re going to be fine.”  She didn’t think Finch hit his head at all, but she wanted him to remain calm.

Finch blinked his eyes and shifted his gaze about the room.  He looked at the girls and kept his voice low.  “Someone hit me.  Hard.  On the head.  I went down.  And now, here I am.”

Angie’s lips turned up in a little grin.  “So you are.  You had me worried.”

Finch’s voice was hoarse.  “You won’t get rid of me that easily, Miss Angie.”

Jenna tried to lighten the mood.  “Did you get a punch in before you went down, Mr. Finch?”

“I don’t recall, but I certainly hope so.”  He managed a smile.

Circe licked the man’s face again and lay across Finch’s chest.

“My protector.”  Finch’s eyes were soft looking at the black cat.  He stroked the soft fur of her back.

“Did you get a look at who hit you?”  Angie’s forehead was creased.

“I’m afraid I did not.”  Finch put a hand to his forehead.  “I feel a bit woozy.”

Courtney and Ellie rushed in and joined the others on the floor.

Courtney ran her hand gently over Finch’s cheek.  “You’re not supposed to take on the bad guys single-handedly, you know.”

Finch smiled at the young, honey-blonde next to him.  “Sometimes I can’t help myself.”

Ellie tried to say something, but her voice cracked and she remained quiet.  Tears ran down her cheeks.

Finch saw Ellie’s distress.  “Now, now, Miss Ellie.  I’m a tough old bird.”

“I’m supposed to be comforting you.”  Ellie blubbered.

A police officer rushed in, followed by the emergency medical techs who shooed the girls and the cat to the side while they checked Mr. Finch.  Bethany, Senator Winston, and three people Angie didn’t know hurried into the room.

Bethany gasped when she spotted Finch’s bloody head.

The techs sat Finch up and tended to the whack at the side of his head, determining that some stitches would be needed.  They loaded him onto a stretcher.

“I’m going with him.”  Ellie moved forward.  She pulled the car keys out of her small handbag and handed them to Jenna.

“Can I come, too, Mr. Finch?”  Courtney winked at him.  “I’ve never ridden in an ambulance.”

“I’d be pleased to have your company, Miss Courtney.”

Courtney bent and picked up Mr. Finch’s cane, and for a second, as she held it, a little buzz of electricity pulsed in her hand, and then the sensation was gone.  Angie felt something in the air and made eye contact with her youngest sister.  Courtney looked down at the walking stick, turned back to Angie, and shrugged.

As the entourage left the room, Jenna called to the techs.  “Take good care of him.”

The officer took statements and then told Jenna and Angie, “Chief Martin is meeting Mr. Finch at the hospital to question him about what happened.”

Angie nodded and the officer stepped to the other side of the room to speak with Senator Winston.  She noticed Detective Lang, the police official she’d met at the crime scene.  She raised an eyebrow.  He nodded to her and walked over.

“I didn’t think detectives answered emergency calls.”

Lang spoke softly.  “There was an earlier call from this residence.  An anonymous caller.  Someone reporting that they’d seen a gun in Kimberley Hutchins’ handbag.”

Angie remembered feeling odd when she was talking with Kim.  “And?  Did you find anything?”

“I spoke with her shortly before we came in here.”  Lang made a small gesture toward the floor where Finch had fallen.  “Ms. Hutchins’ purse was empty.  She was upset about being searched.”  He glanced over at the police officer and excused himself.

Bethany moved to stand next to Angie and Jenna.  “Finch must have seen something.  Or heard something.  It must be Nelson’s killer who did this.”  Her fingers shook as she placed her hand against the side of her face.

Angie took a look around the room.  There were two leather chairs placed in front of three wide windows that overlooked the lawn and flower gardens.  There was the huge desk in the middle of the room and a large leather sofa against the back wall.  Behind the desk were built-in bookcases filled with leather-bound volumes.  She shifted her gaze to the back right corner of the room where a white staircase with gleaming wooden treads stood.

Angie startled.  Euclid sat at the bottom of the steps.  He arched his back, hissed, and raced up the stairs.

Angie and Jenna rushed to the staircase with Bethany at their heels.  The police officer and Detective Lang noticed the girls hurry and followed after.

Senator Winston blustered.  “What’s going on?”

The stairs led to a second floor room with white walls, white sofas, and a wall of huge plate glass windows with views of the back of the property.  Euclid sat in front of a closed closet door.

“What is it, Euclid?”  Angie’s head buzzed.  Her palms were clammy and she felt drops of sweat trickling down the side of her face.  She took shaky steps towards the cat.  Jenna was inches from her sister’s back.

Bethany followed.  “What’s going on?  What’s with the cat?”

The police officer put his hand on the handle of the gun in his holster.  “Hold on.  Step back.  I’ll open it.”  He moved forward and reached for the doorknob.

Euclid stepped away.

The officer pulled the door open.

The closet was empty.

Except for the gun lying on the middle of the floor.

Chapter 15

Jenna and Angie drove to the hospital and picked up Mr. Finch and their sisters from the emergency room.  Finch was given twenty stitches and some pain medication.  On the way home, he sat on the van’s second row of seats with two, furry guards sitting next to him.  One was a sleek, black cat and the other was a huge orange boy whose tail lay across Finch’s lap.

The girls insisted that the older man stay overnight with them at the Victorian and, since there was time before everyone headed off to bed, they escorted Finch into the living room where they brought him tea and cookies, a fluffy, soft pillow, and a cozy blanket to drape over his legs.  The cats perched on either side of him.

“Strange,” Finch said.  “But I have a craving for boiled eggs.”

Shortly after his statement, Ellie carried in a tray with several hard-boiled eggs, a salt shaker, and buttered toast.

The girls sat down around Mr. Finch except for Courtney who sprawled on the floor in front of the sofa with a bowl of cereal.  They discussed the strange events of the late afternoon and evening.

“What were you doing just before you went down?” Jenna asked.  “Do you recall what happened right before you got bonked on the head?”

Finch looked off across the room trying to remember.  “Things are fuzzy.”

“The doc said you might remember more as days pass.”  Courtney spooned cereal into her mouth.  “Your brain got jarred.  It needs some time to rest and heal.”

“I do recall wandering around the main living room listening to conversations.  Something caught my ear.”  Finch thought for a moment.  “But its significance eludes me.”

“You’ll remember eventually.”  Ellie poured more tea into his cup.

“I went into the room where the memorial was held.  There were people here and there around the room, chatting in small groups.  I recall going into the hallway that led to the den.  If someone questioned why I was there, I planned to say I was in need of a bathroom.  But I can’t remember what drew me into the hall.”

“Were the cats with you then?” Angie asked.

“No, they weren’t.  They must have sensed my distress and found me after the attack.”

Euclid trilled at the man.

Mr. Finch rubbed his temple as he gave the orange cat a slight smile.

Jenna noted the fatigue on Mr. Finch’s face.  “I think we’ve had enough excitement for the day.  Why don’t we talk about something else?  Something more pleasant.”

Angie’s phone buzzed and she reached to the coffee table to pick it up.  She read the text.

“What is it?”  Ellie saw the look on her sister’s face.

“It’s Chief Martin.  Preliminary inspection indicates that the gun found in the closet at the Winston’s rental house is consistent with the weapon involved in Nelson Rider’s murder.”

“So.”  Courtney put her empty bowl on the table.  “Who hid it there?  Was it Kim?”

“And who called in the anonymous tip to the police about her having a gun in her purse?”  Ellie held her hands in her lap.  “Was it a hoax or was it legit?”

“And
why
hide the gun there?”  Jenna tapped her index finger against her chin.

“All of the people on our list of suspects were attendees at the memorial.”  Angie pondered.  “Any one of them could have tried to dispose of the murder weapon by hiding it in the rental mansion.”