A Spirited Tail #2 Mystic Notch Series Read online

  “He does,” a gritty voice rasped from behind me. The voice sounded like its owner had drunk a bottle of whiskey and munched on rocks for breakfast and I turn to face the county medical examiner, Gertie Sloan, trudging through grass that was almost as tall as she was. Gertie must have been ninety if she was a day, but somehow managed to keep the job as chief M.E. Probably because no one else wanted it.

  “You know him?” I asked.

  “Yep. That’s Ranger. Belongs to our victim, Bruce Norton.” Gertie bent over to get a look at the body, then turned to me sharply. “What in tarnation did you do to him?”

  “Me? I didn’t do that … he was already like that.” I gestured to his forehead. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of him. Is he from Mystic Notch?”

  Gertie ignored me and returned to inspecting the body.

  “You probably wouldn’t remember him,” Gus said without looking up at me. She continued walking around the area, her eyes glued to the ground searching for clues. “He kept pretty much to himself.”

  Gus finished her circling of the area and started issuing commands. “Tape off the area. Establish a search grid around the body.”

  Jimmy scrambled to get to the yellow police tape. The crime scene techs started opening their boxes and pulled out various implements of the trade. One of them started taking pictures. Another started placing yellow numbered evidence markers.

  Ranger watched the activity with weary eyes.

  “So, what happened to him?” Ophelia had joined us and was peering over my shoulder.

  “Someone killed him,” Gertie stated the obvious.

  “What about his forehead?” Jimmy looked at the body and then blanched. His face turned pale, making the red dots of pimples stand out even more than usual. He jerked his eyes away and got busy with the crime-scene tape.

  “The markings are very odd.” Gertie rubbed her chin. “They do seem somewhat familiar, but I can’t quite place them. It seems someone is trying to send a message.”

  “A message?” Ophelia asked. “To whom?”

  Gertie shrugged and walked around the body to inspect it from another angle.

  “Did you guys trample the crime scene?” Gus asked accusingly, pointing at the area of tamped down grass where Ophelia had fainted.

  “No,” I said defensively. “Well, Ophelia fainted there, but other than that we stayed as far away as we could.”

  Gus twisted her mouth up and gave me the evil eye. “You didn’t touch anything?”

  “Nope.” I shook my head and lifted my hand up beside my face holding the first three fingers up and bending my thumb and pinkie in toward my palm. “Scout’s honor.”

  Gus narrowed her eyes at me. “Did you see anyone here … maybe pass someone on the road?”

  I thought back to my ride up the winding mountain road. I hadn’t seen anyone. Ophelia had already been here when I arrived. I glanced over at her and she shook her head.

  “I don’t remember seeing anyone,” I said.

  “Me, either,” Ophelia added.

  “There’s no car here,” Jimmy pointed out eagerly. “So how did the victim get here? He probably came with the killer.”

  “Or walked.” Augusta pointed to the west. “Bruce lived over there not too far and there’re a lot of trails in the woods. He could have been taking Ranger for a walk and maybe stumbled on the killer doing something he shouldn’t have been doing.”

  “I wonder why a killer would be here …” Ophelia glanced around uneasily.

  “Me, too,” Gus said. “But even more than that, I wonder why you are here.”

  “I’m listing the house,” Ophelia said. “Willa met me here to help appraise the book collection that is supposed to be in there.”

  “You haven’t been in?” Gus asked.

  “No.”

  Gus glanced over at the large house. “I thought this place was abandoned.”

  Ophelia explained how the sale of the house had been held up by the brothers of the previous owner and how the nephew had now hired her to sell it. “You don’t think that has anything to do with the murder, do you?”

  Gus pressed her lips together. “It’s hard to say. I don’t know why Bruce would be out here. He was quite a recluse and I’d heard some say they thought he might be getting dementia. He was getting on in years.”

  “Not everyone who is getting on in years gets dementia,” Gertie bellowed from her position at the side of the body.

  A smile flitted over Gus’s lips. “True.”

  “Why would anyone want to kill an old man?” I asked.

  “That’s the question.” Gus fixed me with a pointed stare. “And I hope you don’t feel the need to take it upon yourself to find the answer.”

  I plastered a look of innocence on my face and slid my eyes over to the house. I had no intention of getting involved in a murder investigation … but my new ghostly friend might have other ideas.

  “Can someone help me roll him over?” Gertie yelled, catching Gus’ attention.

  Gus walked over next to Gertie, but as soon as she bent down, Ranger started to growl.

  “Oh, come on now, Ranger.” Gertie stuck her hand out and the dog whined and licked her wrist just above the purple latex glove she wore. “Better get him out of here. He might not like strangers messing around with Bruce.”

  “I’ll call Mel at the dog pound and have him come,” Jimmy offered.

  “Pound?” My heart twisted at images of the grieving dog sitting in a cage, cold and unloved flooding my mind. He’d just lost his master—hadn’t he been through enough? “No way. I’ll take him until we can see if any family members want him.”

  “I don’t care where he goes, just get him out of my crime scene,” Gus said.

  “Is there any rope around here?” I surveyed the area near the house, but came up empty.

  “There’s some in the car,” Jimmy glanced at Gus. Gus gave a curt nod and Jimmy jogged off toward the Crown Vic.

  Gertie grabbed on to Ranger’s collar and led him toward me. I squatted down and reached out, letting Ranger sniff me, which he did hesitantly.

  “Good dog.” I nodded up at Gertie, who let go of his collar. Ranger seemed to understand what was going on and let me tie the rope Jimmy had brought to the ring on his collar.

  Ophelia cleared her throat and we all turned to look at her. “I don’t suppose we could go in the house now …?”

  Gus’ eyes slid from Ophelia to the house. “We need to check it out first. Do you have a key?”

  Ophelia held up a weather-beaten brass house key. “My client mailed me this … he said it should open the house but I haven’t tried it.”

  “Okay. Open the door and let Jimmy check it out. Stay outside until we say you can go in.”

  “Yes, Ma’am.” Jimmy practically saluted Gus and ran off to the front with Ophelia close behind. Gus stared after them, her lips quirking up in a smile. I knew she got a kick out of the way the young deputy idolized her, but I also knew she wasn’t on a power trip about it—she truly wanted to take him under her wing and teach him the ropes.

  Gus turned her attention back to helping Gertie roll the body over and I turned away, focusing my attention on rubbing Ranger’s coarse fur.

  “Looks like he got whacked pretty good.” Gertie’s emotionless voice carried across the grass. “Been dead a while. He was hit with something pretty big. A shovel, maybe. I’ll need to get him to the lab to tell more.”

  Instinctively, I looked around for a big shovel, or some other implement that could have done the deed. My search came up empty.

  “The ambulance should be here shortly,” Gus said.

  “Okay.” Gertie stood amidst various popping noises. “I can’t do much more here, so I’ll meet the body back at the lab.”

  “Thanks.” Gus smiled up at Gertie who nodded curtly as she stripped off her purple gloves.

  Gertie picked up the bag she’d set on the grass beside her. It reminded me of an old doctor’s bag from th
e 1800s. I found myself thinking it wouldn’t surprise me to find it was that old … or even that Gertie herself was.

  More popping noises came from her knees as she squatted beside Ranger.

  “You be a good boy, now.” She looked from the dog to me. “You’re in good hands.”

  Ranger’s big brown eyes followed Gertie as she stood and walked to her car.

  “Okay, boy. Let’s go out front.” I tugged the rope. Ranger looked up at me uncertainly, then stood and followed me, taking one heart-breaking glance back at Bruce.

  Ophelia turned from her post at the open doorway where she was peering into the house, trying to get a glimpse of what was inside.

  “It’s just like he said. Everything is in here,” she whispered, then frowned at Ranger. “Are you taking him?”

  “Yep. Well, at least until I can find him a good home. Maybe one of Bruce’s relatives wants him.”

  “Well, don’t bring him near my car. Tatters is in there and I don’t think she likes dogs.”

  I jerked my head around to stare at her brand new Lincoln with the cream-colored leather interior. I was relieved to see that she had the windows cracked and the air conditioning on so the cat wouldn’t overheat, but a little surprised that she brought her cat to work with her. As I stared at the car, a little black and white head poked up on the passenger side. I noticed one of its ears was still a little tattered. The engine of the car purred so quietly, I hadn’t even noticed it was running.

  I’d been surprised earlier that summer when Ophelia had adopted the little homeless kitten with the tattered ear, because I couldn’t picture the selfish real estate agent caring for anything but herself. She’d proved me wrong, and it looked like she’d grown very attached to the kitten.

  “You bring your cat to work with you?”

  “Yes, of course. Tatters comes to the office with me every day. Just like you bring Pandora with you to the bookstore. You don’t think I’d leave her home alone, do you?”

  I glanced down at Ranger and wondered if he liked cats. Then I wondered if Pandora, the cat I’d inherited along with the bookstore and house, liked dogs. I took Pandora to the bookstore with me every day and, since that was where I was headed after I finished up here, I guessed I was going to find out soon enough.

  The ambulance arrived, interrupting my vision of bookshelves clattering to the ground spilling books all over my store as Ranger frantically tried to escape the hissing and clawing cat.

  When the EMT’s appeared from the back with the body on a stretcher, Ranger stood at attention and let out a series of barks. I put a reassuring hand on his head as they loaded his former master into the back. He looked up at me with pleading eyes that squeezed my heart.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you get a good home.”

  They shut the door on the ambulance and Ranger lay down, pushed out his breath in a big sigh and curled in a ball, looking for all the world as if the life had been drained from him.

  Gus came around the corner, snapping off her gloves just as Jimmy appeared in the doorway.

  “Did you find anything in there?” she asked.

  “Nope. It doesn’t look like anyone had been in here in years.” Jimmy pointed to the floor. “The dust hasn’t been disturbed in any of the rooms.”

  Gus nodded to Ophelia and me. “Okay. I guess you two can go in, but if you find anything suspicious, let me know.”

  “Great!” Ophelia practically pushed Jimmy out of the way in her haste to get inside. I hesitated, looking down at Ranger. He appeared to be sleeping, but I wondered if he’d be okay out here while I was inside. I didn’t want him to wander off, so I looked for a safe place to tie the other end of the rope where he couldn’t get tangled or stuck. I squatted and slipped my fingers under his collar, just to make sure it was loose enough that he could slip it off if he did somehow get tangled in the rope.

  Jimmy eased his way down the steps, giving Ranger a wide berth.

  “He won’t bite,” I said as I made a loose knot in the rope.

  Jimmy cast a few glances in the dog’s direction. Ranger opened one eye and looked at Jimmy, then sighed and closed it again.

  I rubbed Rangers ears and he rewarded me with a meager twitch of his tail. “See, he likes being petted.”

  Jimmy tentatively held out his hand and Ranger opened both eyes while he sniffed at it. Stretching even closer, Jimmy touched the dog’s head, petting him cautiously with his fingertips. Ranger gave him an unenthusiastic tail wag and then tucked his head back under his tail and went to sleep.

  “I guess he’s probably kind of depressed,” Jimmy said.

  “You comin’?” Gus called from the car. Jimmy whipped around and scurried off toward her.

  Gus opened the driver’s door, then looked over the top of it at me, a mischievous gleam in her eye. “Now remember, Willa, no investigating or I’ll have to tell Striker on you.”

  I felt my face flush at the mention of the handsome sheriff from nearby Dixford Pass. I’d met him during the investigation for the last dead body I’d found and we’d been on a few dates. A few very good dates. Just the thought of him made my heart flutter like a teenager, which felt downright embarrassing at the age of forty-eight.

  I remembered that Striker had lots of homicide experience and Gus had none and found myself hoping she’d call him in to consult on the case. Which made my face even warmer and tied my tongue in a knot.

  Gus’ laugh interrupted my thoughts and I tried to give her a mean look.

  “Seriously, Willa, A killer is on the loose and I don’t want you getting hurt, so no investigating.”

  “I know. I’ll stay out of it.”

  “Good. See ya.” Gus slipped into the driver’s seat and started up the car.

  I turned toward the open door as she drove away, glancing at the windows to see if my ghostly friend was there waiting for me. He wasn’t.

  “Willa, are you coming? Better bring a flashlight. It’s kind of dark in here.” Ophelia’s voice drifted out from somewhere in the house.

  The few windows that hadn’t been boarded up let minimal light into the house. I hadn’t thought to bring a flashlight, though, so I guessed my eyes would just have to get used to the dark.

  Hesitating on the threshold, I took a quick look back at the warm, sunny outdoors before heading into the dark gloom of the house.

  Chapter Three

  The blanket of humidity left by the rain shower made my red curls frizz into an unruly mess. I pushed the hair out of my eyes as I looked around the large foyer. To my right, a wide staircase curved upwards, the ornately carved railing thick with dust.

  An opening on my left led to what appeared to be a living room. The sheet-covered furniture gave the dimly lit room an eerie appearance. Shafts of sunlight filtered in between the cracks of the boards used to cover up the windows. It was the perfect setting for a ghost … except there was no sign of the one who had seemed so anxious to talk to me before.

  "Come in here and check out this china—it’s Limoges!" Ophelia’s excited squeal rang out from the end of the hall and I followed it to a butler’s pantry. Ophelia had her head buried in a cabinet, the paneled, mahogany doors wide open.

  "It’s a full set." Ophelia’s eyes gleamed with excitement. "And look at this cut crystal."

  I opened another cabinet to reveal a hoard of sterling silver candlesticks, salt shakers and serving trays. "Looks like the nephew is going to make a bundle just on the contents of the house alone."

  "Yep. And the house isn’t actually in that bad of shape on the inside." Ophelia squinted into the dark kitchen where I could barely make out a large commercial range and dark wood cabinets complete with Victorian drop knobs. "Did you find the library?"

  "Not yet."

  "I think it’s over there." Ophelia pointed to a hallway on the left. "I’m going to poke around in here and uncover some of the furniture while you check out the books. I lost a lot of time with everything going on this morning so I only
have about a half hour now before I have to meet another client."

  "Me, too. I have to open the shop. I’ll just take a quick look now and come back later to do a more in-depth evaluation."

  Ophelia nodded, then returned to rummaging in the cabinets and I headed off in the direction she’d indicated. On my way, I kept my eyes peeled for the ghost, but he didn’t seem to be around. Probably just as well, since I couldn’t actually talk to him in front of Ophelia without her thinking I was crazy.

  The house was bigger than it had looked from the outside. I passed a dining room complete with an ornate chandelier, a bathroom, and a strange room lined in dark velvet drapes that had only a large oval table and chairs in the middle.

  The ceilings were twelve feet high and the hallway paneled with mahogany. A large portrait of a man in eighteenth century garb hung on one wall. My neck prickled as I looked at it and I was reminded of those old movies where the eyes of the portraits move to follow the innocent victim. I walked past, then stopped short and turned quickly. The eyes didn’t move, and I laughed at myself for being so silly.

  The further I got into the hallway, the darker it became, but I could see one room at the end that had light spilling from it. I headed toward it and found myself standing in the doorway of one of the most stunning private libraries I’d ever seen.

  Bookshelves covered three of the walls from floor to the twenty-foot high ceiling. The fourth wall was dominated by a fieldstone fireplace, the opening almost large enough for me to stand in. A moose head mounted in the center kept watch over the room.

  The tall, hand-rounded top windows were framed by long, sweeping curtains. A sheet-draped sofa sat opposite the fireplace with a chair on either side. A rolltop desk sat open at one end of the room. A pen and paper lay on top, almost as if the former inhabitant had just gotten up from writing. But the best part of the room was the scent of leather and vanilla musk—the smell of old books.

  I stepped inside as if in a dream. Looking down at the rug, I could see it was once a beautifully colored oriental, but centuries of dust had dulled the color. I didn’t care so much about that, though. It was the books that held my interest.