Wrong Side of the Claw Page 3

  “I agree. Maybe Gus is just a little under the weather.” Inkspot stood, his whiskers twitching with the seriousness of the situation. “But I think we need to keep a close eye on Gus to know for sure. Felicity too. She’s sneaky, and we have no idea what she’s up to at this point. And we all need to be extra wary now. If the humans are no longer investigating properly, then all manner of evil could take place. They have no idea of the danger they are up against.”

  4

  “I’m telling you, it was just weird. She’s not usually so nice to me,” I said to Striker later as we sat in my living room, devouring a pepperoni pizza. “And it’s certainly not like her to tell me to follow leads.”

  “That is strange,” Striker said, feeding Pandora a slice of pepperoni. “When I stopped by her office earlier, Gus wasn’t there. There were notes on her bulletin board, though, about the break-ins, and they looked pretty thorough.”

  “I don’t know. The whole day’s been odd.” I snuggled closer to his side. We were seated on the couch, the food on the coffee table before us along with our drinks, the TV droning on in the background. Pandora jumped up onto the table and batted at the glass paperweight sitting there.

  My gaze fell to the shiny orb as her paw moved it from one side of the table to the other. I remembered looking into the thing on the last case and seeing… something. Not a solution exactly but enough to help me figure out what was going on. It had felt almost magical.

  Feeling out of sorts, I leaned forward and picked up the paperweight, looking deep into it. I wasn’t sure what I expected to see. It had been a gift from Elspeth when I’d moved back to town, and I was pretty sure it was just a plain old piece of glass she’d gotten down at Deena’s Curio Shop. Sure enough, all I saw inside was an upside-down reflection of the room.

  So much for magic.

  Pandora jumped up to cuddle on the other side of Striker. Couldn’t blame the kitty, really. She had excellent taste in men. For his part, Striker made a big show of petting the cat and talking to her like he understood what she was saying.

  I laughed and shook my head. “You make it seem like you are really communicating with her.”

  “I am.” He chuckled then kissed the top of my hair. “Well, kind of anyway. We don’t talk with words, but you can read their body language. She’ll tell you if she’s happy or sad or angry or upset.”

  “Kind of like me, eh?” I leaned up and kissed him.

  “Exactly like you.” He grinned.

  We focused on eating the pizza and making small talk about our day. Honestly, the small talk was my favorite part. I loved hearing about the details of Striker’s day, and the way he always seemed interested in mine warmed my heart. After demolishing the pizza, we moved to the kitchen to clean up. We usually traded off on the washing and drying duties. Tonight I was drying.

  I turned to Striker. “What should we do about my sister?”

  “I don’t think we need to do anything.” He handed me a washed plate, and I dried it with my red-and-white-striped towel. “I think she is investigating the robberies. I mean, she had it on her board. But honestly, nothing was taken, so what’s the urgency? She’s probably just bored and taking her time.”

  “True.” I put the plate away and took the next dish from him. “My sister does tend to have a short attention span sometimes.”

  “Yeah.” Striker looked out the window as he washed one of the glasses. “I’ll keep an eye on her, but unless something drastic happens, I don’t think we have a thing to worry about.”

  5

  The next morning, Bing, Hattie, and Cordelia were waiting for me and Pandora at the bookstore as usual. Bing had a cardboard tray with coffees, and I gladly accepted one once I’d unlocked the store and we were all sitting on the sofas.

  “Where’s Josiah?” I asked, taking a tentative sip of the coffee to test for temperature. It was perfect.

  Pandora trotted over, looking a bit agitated. She hopped up on the arm of my chair and pushed her head against my hand. I petted her, but then she hopped down and trotted over to Bing.

  “Hello there.” Bing smiled down at her, then slowly his smile faded. He and Pandora both glanced toward the door at the same time. Weird.

  “He texted me earlier,” Bing said. “Told me he was going to be late. Got his coffee though.” He held up the tray with a cup still inside as proof.

  “So, any new break-ins?” Cordelia asked. She was wearing a brown suit today under a heavy tan jacket, with a coral-colored blouse. Hattie was dressed the opposite but with an identical tan jacket. At least they were edging closer to season-appropriate colors. “Gus have any new leads?”

  Pandora trotted over to Cordelia and meowed.

  “No.” I told them about her visit the day before. “If she’s not making it a priority, then we can’t expect an arrest anytime soon either.”

  The first rays of sunshine streamed in through the front windows of the shop, and my spirits lifted along with the sun. Striker had been right last night. Maybe I was being paranoid. I couldn’t help myself, though. I’d been trained as a journalist, and I tended to be suspicious of everything. But that was my old life. I was a bookstore owner now. Those instincts of mine might have been great as a reporter in big-city Boston but not so much as a bookstore owner in a quiet little town in New Hampshire. I should just stop worrying about break-ins and my sister being out of sorts and focus on my own life.

  “That’s to be expected, I think,” Hattie said. “I was having a pedicure yesterday, and Mary Connelly said that talk about the break-ins has died down. No more have happened, and in a few days, I suspect it will be old news.”

  “That’s right, and Gail Greenfield said that there was quite a to-do over the pink flamingos that Joe and Irene Buxton put in their front yard.” Cordelia pursed her lips as if the idea of pink flamingo yard ornaments was distasteful. “I suspect that will be the new gossip now.”

  “I don’t know, sister.” Cordelia smiled at her twin. “I rather like the flamingos.”

  “Meow!” Pandora voiced her approval as well.

  Bing cleared his throat. “I’m glad there haven’t been any further break-ins, but I don’t think we should just forget about them.” He glanced uneasily at the door. “I mean, I hope Gus is looking into them, though I agree it’s not as urgent as if items were stolen.”

  “Good point,” Hattie said. “Next time we might not be so lucky, and the thief could make off with something valuable.”

  “Or hurt someone,” Cordelia added.

  We all turned to her, startled by her ominous tone.

  “I don’t think that will happen. Statistically most thieves don’t escalate into harming folks, and this one has been very careful to break into the shops when no one is there,” I said.

  “Even so, we better—”

  “Meow!” Pandora’s cry cut off Bing’s words. She was over by the door, and as we all turned to look at her, the door burst open, and Josiah ran in, looking flushed and out of breath.

  “What’s wrong?” Bing asked, standing up and setting the coffees aside. “Calm down before you pass out.”

  “C-can’t,” Josiah wheezed, doubling over to rest his hands on his knees.

  “What is it? Another break-in?” Cordelia asked.

  “No. Worse.” Josiah looked up at us, his eyes wide. “There’s been a murder!”

  6

  Josiah collapsed into a chair, and we all gathered around him as he wheezed and coughed. Bing patted him on the back, his expression grim as he glanced up at us. Even Pandora seemed concerned. She sat on the floor at the foot of the chair, her greenish-gold eyes watching us intently.

  “It’s Jack McDougall,” Josiah spit out when he could talk again. “They found him dead in his store just a few minutes ago. Looks like our burglar has escalated from robbery to murder.”

  “Oh dear!” Cordelia gasped.

  “My goodness!” Hattie said.

  “Let’s see for ourselves.” Bing held t
he door while we all rushed outside. I paused for a few seconds to push Pandora back inside and lock the door. As I started down the street, Pandora hopped into her cat bed in the window and glared at me. I could feel her feline stare burning a hole in my back as I hurried to Jack’s Cards, the collectable sports cards store owned by McDougall.

  Apparently, we weren’t the only ones who wanted a closer look at the crime scene. A small crowd had gathered in front of the store. Jack’s wife, Brenda, was standing on the sidewalk, sobbing uncontrollably while Gus’s deputy, Jimmy, was doing his best to comfort her. The guy was young and inexperienced, though, and didn’t seem to be doing a very good job of it, if Brenda’s hysterical wailing was any indication. Her short brown curls bounced around her head each time she shook it.

  As we got nearer to the crime scene, I could hear bits of their conversation.

  “My husband had stayed overnight to guard the store. You know, because of the break-ins,” Brenda said to Jimmy. “I knew something was wrong when he didn’t answer his phone this morning. I came down to check and… and… and I found him like that inside. D-dead.”

  More tears ensued, and who could blame her? Her husband was gone, after all.

  I moved in closer with the others, trying to get a glimpse through the front windows of the shop at the scene inside. Not much luck. All I saw was the local medical examiner, an ancient woman named Gertie Sloan, hunched over Jack. His body was on the floor, clear in the back of the store, next to a toppled chair and surrounded by a pool of blood. I wasn’t certain, but I guessed it was a gunshot wound based on the hole in the back of the chair.

  Gus came outside a moment later and shooed everyone away from the windows. Her demeanor wasn’t the take-charge persona she usually had, though. Nope. Today she seemed as laid-back as before, putting her arm around people and personally escorting them from the scene in a friendly manner. Definitely not my sister’s normal by-the-book attitude at all. Usually she barked orders and threatened people with jail time if they didn’t move along. Still, if her new, kinder attitude meant she might share what she’d learned about what happened with me, I wasn’t above schmoozing with her a little.

  “Oh darn! We’ve got a hair appointment,” Cordelia said. “Willa, dear. Please let us know what you find out at coffee tomorrow.”

  Hattie and Cordelia hurried off. I was skeptical about the appointment. My guess was they wanted to be the first ones at the hair salon to announce the morbid news.

  “I’ve seen enough.” Josiah turned away. “I’ll see you guys later.”

  Bing and I watched as he headed toward the post office. The former postmasters liked to gather there in the morning, and I imagined this morning he would be sought after like he was a celebrity since he was one of the first on the scene.

  Bing stood beside me, glancing first into Jack’s store then at the lamp store down the way then over toward the curio shop.

  “Do you really think the person behind the break-ins killed Jack?” I asked.

  “Seems like there would be a connection, Willa,” he said.

  “Maybe. It’s a big step from break-ins to murder.”

  “It is. Maybe Jack surprised them, and things got out of hand. Darn shame, though.” Bing frowned and shook his head. “I should get home myself.” He backed away, hand raised. “See you tomorrow morning, Willa.”

  “See you.” I watched him go then looked around for Gus, thinking I might be able to get some information out of her. She was busy inside the store, though, so I decided it would be wiser to wait until she was free. She probably wouldn’t tell me anything, anyway. I was sure this horrible new development would be just the thing that would turn her back into the old Gus.

  I headed back to the bookstore, deep in thought. Pepper was waiting for me at the door when I returned. Pandora was still glaring from her cat bed.

  “What’s happened down there?” Pepper asked, peering at Jack’s place in the distance. His building was on the opposite side of the street but a few stores down, so we had to crane our necks to see it from the bookstore window.

  I filled her in on what we’d seen then watched out the window with her and Pandora. We spotted Gus leaving the crime scene, looking like she didn’t have a care in the world. Poor Jimmy had his hands full, though, trying to keep control of the crowd and console the newly widowed Brenda. My concern over my sister’s odd personality shift grew. “I’m telling you, something’s wrong with Gus.”

  “It is strange,” Pepper said, gaze narrowed on my sister, who was sauntering off down the street. She looked relaxed as she accepted an iced coffee from Mrs. Q. As the two exchanged a few words, Mrs. Quimby kept glancing uneasily toward Jack’s shop. I imagined the older woman was nervous to see the police and medical examiner there, but it looked like Gus was reassuring her, sipping the coffee and patting Mrs. Quimby on the arm.

  “I thought maybe Striker was right last night when he said she was bored with her job, but today there’s a juicy new murder for her to work with, and she doesn’t seem overly interested.” I scowled as Gus bid Mrs. Quimby goodbye and started to admire the flowers in one of the large pots under a streetlamp. Normally Gus would never leave a crime scene, wanting to keep control of every little detail.

  “Maybe she has a good lead on a suspect?” Pepper suggested. “Perhaps that’s why she rushed off.”

  I raised a brow at her. “That was not a rush, even for a turtle. No. Something’s wrong, and I’m going to find out what it is. Besides, a man was killed, and it’s not like her to be happy about that. She does have some compassion… or she used to.”

  “True.” Pepper worried her bottom lip, still staring in the direction of Jack’s store. “This does not bode well.”

  “You’re thinking about that list again, aren’t you?”

  “Mew!” Pandora meowed her two cents. The logical side of me still resisted believing in magical lists and hexes, but I had to admit there was something strange about this whole business.

  “We can’t discount it. I hope there is a logical explanation, though.” Pepper glanced out the window one last time then turned away. She reached into the pocket of her jacket and pulled out a pistachio scone. “I brought you this.”

  “Thanks.” Pistachio was one of my favorites, so I bit in right away. It was still slightly warm, as she must have baked it this morning. The sweet almond flavor mixed with the salty pistachio was divine. “It’s delicious.”

  Pepper smiled. “Good. Well, I must get back to the shop. See you later. Let me know if anything develops.” She glanced uneasily out the window.

  I scarfed down the rest of the scone then called Striker.

  “Hey, Willa,” he said. “I was just on my way to Jack’s Cards. Heard about the murder on the police scanner. I’ll stop by if you want.”

  “Of course.” I waited on a customer who walked in just after I ended the call, keeping one eye on the window. I saw Striker’s car pass and watched him go inside Jack’s store. Gus had wandered back to the scene. That was a good sign, right?

  Since the store was empty, and my curiosity was boiling over, I decided to take a stroll down and meet Striker. I locked up the shop amidst Pandora’s meows of protest and headed down the street for the second time that morning.

  When I arrived at the crime scene, Striker was leaning against the hood of the squad car, beside Gus, who was still sipping her iced coffee.

  “Hey,” he called to me and waved. His expression was serious, but I couldn’t tell if that was because of the gravity of the situation or because Gus was acting like the anti-Gus.

  “Hey.” I stood next to him and watched the crowd still gathered in front of the store. They’d put up crime-scene tape now at least, I noticed, and it looked like Jimmy had things better under control. I narrowed my gaze at my sister. “Any idea who did this?”

  “Nah, not yet,” Gus said, looking bored.

  “You are investigating though, yes?” Striker asked, arms crossed and expression suspicio
us.

  “Of course. That’s my job, right?” Gus shrugged. “You ever listen to jazz, Striker?”

  He gave me a side-glance then raised a skeptical brow. “Sure. But I don’t see how that has anything to do with Jack’s death.”

  “We’ll figure it out. Don’t worry.” Gus smiled then looked over at the entrance to Jack’s Cards, where Gertie was trying to flag her down. “Guess I gotta go. You two take care.”

  We watched her walk back to the store, iced coffee in hand.

  Striker and I headed back to the bookstore in silence. I unlocked the door, and Pandora rushed over to Striker so he could pet her. She purred and rubbed against his ankle, but when I tried to pet her, she skittered out of the way, gave me an angry look, and hopped into her cat bed. I guessed she was still mad I hadn’t let her join us when we’d gone down to Jack’s earlier. I wasn’t worried. I was sure she would get over it with the help of a few of her favorite fish-flavored cat treats.

  I turned to Striker. “See? There’s something not right with Gus. You can’t tell me you didn’t notice.”

  “No. You’re right. She’s definitely off. Which isn’t great, considering there’s a killer on the loose.”

  “Exactly.” I slumped back against the counter. “What are we going to do?”

  He exhaled slowly. “Well, I have an idea, but I don’t think you’re going to like it.”

  “Hey, I’ll take anything at this point.”

  “We get the information directly from the source.” Striker made the shape of a ghost with his hands.

  My bad leg started to ache. “You mean Jack?”

  “Yes. Have you seen him?”

  “No. Have you?”

  Striker shook his head.

  My accident a few years ago had produced another unwanted consequence along with the leg injury. I could see ghosts. Up until recently, the only other person I’d ever told about this was Pepper. Of course she was understanding—maybe even a bit envious—being predisposed to all things magical, and having at least one other person know made it seem less lonely and scary.