Whisker of a Doubt (Mystic Notch Cozy Mystery Series Book 6) Page 2

  “Hmm.” Pepper continued to watch me over the rim of her cup as Pandora strolled over to twine herself around my ankles. “For your sake, I hope so.”

  Pandora moved from me to Pepper, meowing loudly.

  “Would you like some cream?” Pepper asked, speaking directly to the cat as if she could understand her.

  Pandora meowed again, this time more quietly, and the two of them proceeded to have a conversation, with Pepper talking and cooing and Pandora meowing and purring. Pepper poured some cream from her sterling-silver creamer into a delicate porcelain saucer rimmed with tiny blue flowers. Pepper seemed quite serious about the conversation. Pandora seemed more serious about the cream.

  Pepper put down the saucer for Pandora then turned back to me, as if realizing I was still there. She smiled, a slow affair, brimming with secrets I wasn’t privy to. Did she actually think she’d been communicating with my cat? Then again, I’d begun to wonder if Pandora wasn’t smarter than the average cat. Not for the first time since I’d returned to Mystic Notch, I wondered how I’d ever managed to leave this place in the beginning and how I was ever going to blend in again now that I was back.

  “So, do you think Albert might still show up?” Pepper asked. “Rumor around town is his heart gave out.”

  “Not sure.” I finished my tea and scone then set my dishes back on the small table between us. “I hope not. If he does, I’ll know for sure it was murder. Robert and Franklin both described Albert as shy, though, so it may take him some time to make himself visible.”

  I shifted in my seat then winced as familiar pain seared up my left leg. The bones had been shattered during the accident, and now, after multiple surgeries and metal pins to put me back together, the stiffness never quite went away. We spent the next few minutes discussing the other goings-on around town—the new gift shop selling all kinds of tacky souvenirs for the tourists, the rumors about Iona leaving her husband, the early chill, and our mutual hopes that this year’s winter would be mild instead of the snowy mess we’d had in previous years. The tourists loved the skiing, but ice and blocked roads didn’t bode well for the local business community.

  “Leg bothering you again?” Pepper reached into her cozy again and pulled out a bag of tea. “Try this. It’s dandelion. Works wonders for arthritis and joint issues.”

  “Thanks.” I took the plastic bag then creaked to my feet to help her pack up and dispose of our trash. “And thanks for the tea and scones. It really hit the spot today.”

  “You’re welcome,” Pepper said, placing her repacked cozy over her arm then heading for the door. “Keep me posted on what happens with Albert.”

  “Will do.” I waved as she left the shop, then turned back to find Pandora up on the table, sniffing the bag of tea Pepper had left me. Her sleek gray tail waved high in the air, the kinked end making it look like an angular question mark. Pandora gave a final sniff then looked up at me with her wise golden-green eyes and meowed loudly.

  3

  Albert’s ghost still hadn’t shown up by the time I closed the store at five, so I called my sister. If anyone would know about a murder taking place in town, it would be Gus. Never mind she didn’t like me poking around in her investigations and probably wouldn’t tell me about official law enforcement business anyway. I’d still at least get a clue by gauging her level of hostility toward my question when I mentioned it.

  I gathered my purse and Pandora then locked up the bookstore, dialing with my free hand as I walked to my Jeep. After climbing inside the vehicle, I started the engine and connected the phone to Bluetooth before pulling away from the curb.

  “Sheriff Augusta Chance,” Gus answered the call, her tone as crisp and professional as always.

  “Hey, it’s Willa,” I said, keeping my gaze straight ahead as I slowly passed through the quaint, crowded downtown area.

  “I hope you’re not using your phone while driving.” Gus’s disapproving frown was evident in her voice. “That’s illegal in this state.”

  “I know that.” I slowed for a red light and glanced over at Pandora, who was curled up sleeping, on the passenger seat. “I’m using Bluetooth. So, how’s your day going?”

  “Fine.” Suspicion mingled with the disapproval now. Gus and I got along well enough but weren’t super close. I tended to be more open to new ideas and ways of doing things, while Gus was pretty set in her ways. And all the magical talk around Mystic Notch? Forget it. She wouldn’t even listen.

  Needless to say, I’d not mentioned my new postaccident abilities to her at all. She’d probably lock me up in a looney bin somewhere. So, when one of my ghostly visitors demanded I poke my nose into one of Gus’s murder investigations, I had to fib a bit. Thus, my sister considered me a nosy nuisance, telling me I must watch too many crime shows on TV or something.

  “Look, I appreciate the courtesy call, but unless you’ve got important business, sis, I’m going to have to go. Things are swamped round here today.”

  “Oh yeah?” I asked, seizing the opportunity. “Why’s that? Wouldn’t have anything to do with what happened to poor old Albert Schumer, would it?”

  Gus hesitated, and my interest soared. “What do you know about Albert Schumer?”

  “Just that Josiah Barrows was in this morning for coffee and he mentioned poor Albert died last night. I wondered if there was anything… odd about his demise.”

  “Odd?” Gus exhaled loudly through the phone line. “Look, Willa. I’ve told you before, I don’t like you sticking your nose into these cases. It’s dangerous and just plain weird. I’m treating what happened to Albert like I would any other deceased person found on public property. End of story.”

  I turned onto the quiet, picturesque side street where the large Victorian I’d inherited from my grandmother was located, my tense shoulders relaxing slightly. All these big trees and tidy yards gave me a sense of peace I’d missed while living in the big city.

  “Okay. I’m not pushing here. Don’t get all defensive.” I turned into my driveway and parked. “I was just asking.”

  “Have you checked on Elspeth yet today?” Gus asked, switching topics. “I’ve been so busy I haven’t had time.”

  “No. You want me to drive over there now to see her?” It wasn’t that far, and the evening was warm for fall. It seemed a shame to go inside just yet. “It’s no problem at all.”

  “If you could, that’d be great,” Gus said. “I gotta go.”

  “Talk to you later, sis.”

  “Later.”

  Elspeth had been a good friend of my late grandmother’s, and Gus and I had both promised Gram we’d check on the elderly lady regularly to make sure she was all right. There was a path through the woods behind my house that connected our two properties, and considering I’d spent most of the day doing paperwork or reshelving books, the exercise would do me good.

  “C’mon, Pandora. Let’s get you some dinner, then we’ll go over and see Elspeth.”

  The cat shot out of the vehicle as soon as I opened my door, and stood on the porch waiting for me. It was past her dinnertime, and she was none too happy about it either, if the flat stare she gave me was any indication.

  I gathered my things, locked the car, then limped up to the side porch, where I usually entered. The huge one-hundred-fifty-year-old Victorian home was too big for one person, really—with three stories, two living rooms, and five bedrooms—but that hadn’t stopped me from keeping it. It had belonged to my dear grandmother, and I loved every inch of its thirty-five hundred square feet, with its black-and-white shutters, sprawling property—now covered with brightly colored fall leaves—and stretches of white fence marking the borders.

  Near the back of the area, about five hundred feet or so from the main house, sat a large red-and-white barn that used to house a stable. At one time, if I remembered correctly, Gram had kept horses. Inside the barn, I could still smell old leather from the saddles, hay, and manure. If the breeze was just right, I’d even catch the phantom whin
ny of a long-gone mare, and I could still see the teeth marks on the stall doors where the horses had chewed the wood. I loved the place. Maybe someday, I’d save up enough money to keep a horse of my own there.

  My stomach growled as I unlocked the house door and let us in. Shadows from the two turrets on either side of the house lengthened as the sun began to set. The wooden porch creaked beneath my feet. “Come on, girl. Let’s get inside and get you some food, eh?”

  Pandora meowed loudly again.

  After fixing the cat a bowl of chow, I peeked into the fridge for a snack. Good thing Striker was coming over later and bringing takeout. I hadn’t had a chance to go to the grocery store yet, and pickings were slim.

  While Pandora devoured her meal, I settled on a handful of olives. I’d not seen Eddie Striker for about a week. He was the sheriff of the next county over—Dixford Pass—and my on-again, off-again boyfriend. We were taking things slowly, neither wanting to rush into anything, and it was nice. More than nice, actually. Striker was sweet and kind and made thoughtful gestures, like bringing me dinner tonight. Not to mention, he was good-looking—tall, dark, broad shouldered. And I’d always been a sucker for gray eyes. He’d be here in about an hour, so I needed to make my trip to check on Elspeth fast.

  Once Pandora finished eating, we headed out the back door and down the path through the woods. Chipmunks scurried through the dried leaves on the ground, and birds tweeted from the tall trees around us in the dwindling light. The scene was quiet and peaceful, and I caught the scent of cookies baking before we even reached Elspeth’s house.

  A feeling of familiar comfort came over me as I emerged from the trees on the other side of the small forest and saw a light-green Victorian home with pink gingerbread detail. I had fond memories of visiting Elspeth with Gram when I was a little girl. We walked up onto the porch. The white railings of the wraparound porch were still covered with gorgeous pink roses, which were unusual to still be blooming this time of year, but Elspeth had a magical touch with plants.

  On the porch, one of Elspeth’s many cats, an orange tomcat named Tigger, rose to meet Pandora. They both sniffed each other in greeting then trotted off toward Elspeth’s barn as if they had very important business to discuss.

  I smiled and shook my head then knocked briefly on the screen door. The wooden door was open, and I peered in through the screen at the living room. “Elspeth? It’s Willa.”

  “Oh, Willa dear. Please come in,” Elspeth called. “I’m in the kitchen.”

  Following the scent of cookies, I walked into her spacious, old-country kitchen. There were cookies cooling on racks covering all the counters and even the large butcher-block island in the center of the space. I laughed. “Looks like you’ve baked enough for the entire town here.”

  “Evie Hamilton was over earlier today, and we were making some recipes from Betty’s recipe book.” She pointed toward a flour-covered tome in the center of the island. “You remember that one, don’t you, Willa?”

  Yep, I did. How could I forget the tattered tome that had played an odd role in finding the killer of Adelaide Hamilton? If I closed my eyes, I could still see Adelaide’s ghost before me, insisting I find the cookbook and give it to Elspeth. Such a strange request.

  Too bad that hadn’t been the only strange thing about that visitation. Evie seemed to have some strange abilities too, if I recalled correctly. The whole thing was a bit foggy now, though. It had all ended in a terrible fire, and I’d suffered smoke inhalation. The doctor had said my memory might be a tad off from it too, which probably accounted for the crazy images I had of a bunch of cats helping me escape and someone being turned into a toad.

  I frowned. There’d also been some question about the types of recipes in that cookbook, I remembered. In fact, Pepper insisted her grandmother had told her Betty’s book wasn’t filled with recipes at all, but instead was filled with spells. I blinked hard. Why would Elspeth have a spell book? But of course, it wasn’t a spell book. The cookies cooling on the counter proved it.

  “Would you like a cookie, dear?” Elspeth asked, holding out a plate.

  “Oh, no, thank you. I’ve not had dinner yet.”

  “This is my second batch today,” Elspeth said, putting the plate aside and heading back to her oven. “The first batch, I took over to poor Grace Schumer to pay my respects for Albert’s death.” She sighed. “If he wasn’t such a conscientious postmaster, he might not have slipped on the steps and might still be alive right now.”

  My interest piqued anew, I rested my hip against the edge of the counter to relieve the ache in my leg and crossed my arms. That was a weird thing to say. Maybe Elspeth knew something about Albert Schumer’s death. “What do you mean he might be alive if he wasn’t so conscientious? I thought he slipped or had a heart attack.”

  Elspeth looked at me sharply. “Yes, that’s what they say. Did you hear otherwise?”

  “No, but what does that have to do with him being conscientious?”

  “Oh, well, Grace told me that Albert found an old piece of undelivered mail in his belongings from when he was a postmaster. I guess it got lodged in one of the old postal bags he used to carry, and never got delivered. He felt determined to see it delivered to its rightful owner, and if he hadn’t gone right off to the post office that minute, he might not have slipped on the steps.”

  “Well, if it was from that long ago, I can’t imagine the person would still be alive.”

  Elspeth shrugged. “That’s not the point, dear. To a postmaster, the mail must be delivered. They take an oath and everything.”

  “Hmm.” I glanced at the clock above the stove and realized Striker would be arriving in about ten minutes. “Could I take some cookies home with me for dessert?”

  “Of course, dear.” Elspeth boxed up about a dozen for me then walked me back to the front door. “Thank you for checking in on me, Willa.”

  “My pleasure.” I kissed her on the cheek then headed back outside. Pandora was nowhere to be seen. I called for her, but she didn’t come out, so I started back down the path toward my house. The cat had lived here longer than I had and could take care of herself. She always caught up with me in the end.

  As I walked back through the twilight woods, I kept my eye out for Albert’s ghost, hoping he might pop up along the way, but no such luck. Hard to believe a letter that old would just turn up out of nowhere in someone’s belongings. Funny how Josiah hadn’t mentioned it that morning, nor had Gus. If there really had been a letter, as Grace had told Elspeth, then what had happened to it?

  4

  Elspeth’s barn was dark inside, with only a few shafts of light filtering in through the small, dusty windows and from the partially open barn door. Pandora padded inside then stopped, glancing around at the bales of hay scattered about the floor and the stainless-steel bowls of cat food lined up against one wall.

  The barn was home to the many cats that Elspeth had adopted over the years. But these weren’t ordinary cats. They were the cats of Mystic Notch. A unique band of felines sworn to help ensure the magic in the notch stayed on the side of “good.”

  Pandora’s eyes immediately adjusted to the dim light inside the barn, and she looked around at her comrades, some of whom had come out from their various napping spots to sit in a circle in the middle of the barn. Some stayed in the lofts, peering down on them, and others—like the fat calico Otis—were perched on top of hay bales. As Pandora had suspected, they were already discussing Albert Schumer’s death.

  “Well, I happen to know the Schumers’ cat,” Sasha said, her head raised in true regal Siamese style, her sky-blue eyes glittering. “And she said the letter Albert had was from Helen Warren, poor old Hester Warren’s great-grandniece.”

  Snowball, a fluffy white Persian, stopped mid-lick of a paw to stare wide-eyed at Sasha. “You don’t think…”

  “That it has something to do with the legend?” Sasha tilted her head, her piercing blue eyes narrowed. “Hard to tell at this point, b
ut it is possible.”

  “If this is linked to Hester, then his death might be important,” Pandora said.

  Her feline intuition had already told her that Albert’s death was no accident. Judging by what Robert and Franklin had told her in the bookstore, she knew that the man had definitely been murdered. Why his ghost had not appeared to Willa was a mystery. Perhaps he really was shy. Pandora had prowled the bookstore all day, waiting for him, but to no avail.

  The dandelion tea Pepper had given Willa should help. Not only was it good for healing pain, it also helped provide a stronger connection to the spirit world. Pepper had likely known that but omitted that little tidbit to Willa, knowing how stubborn and skeptical she was. She probably would refuse to drink the tea, thinking it would cause even more ghosts to haunt her. Pandora could only hope that Albert would appear at Willa’s house tonight. If not, she might have to take drastic measures because, if the letter really did have to do with the legend, then what they needed to accomplish could not be done by felines alone. They would need human help.

  “No kidding.” Otis glared down at her, setting Pandora’s whiskers twitching. There was no love lost between her and Otis. Even though they’d teamed up once to help their cause, and even though she’d sensed that his bark was worse than his bite, Otis still couldn’t stop himself from being snarky with her, and she couldn’t stop herself from reacting.

  She knew she should just let it go, but he really got her dander up.

  Pandora didn’t need to point out that they’d almost lost their battle once here in the notch when an old potion that Hester Warren had tried to protect had surfaced. She didn’t need to remind them how the ghost of Hester’s cat, Obsidian, had helped them. She didn’t need to bring up the fact that things like this should not be taken lightly in Mystic Notch.

  “If that’s the case, we have to find the letter and make sure it does not fall into the hands of evil. That pleasantry charm is the only thing keeping this village civil,” Tigger added, his sleek orange body tense. “To reverse it would be a catastrophe.”