A Mew to a Kill Read online

  “Looks like you got a lot of evidence over there,” I said, earning a sharp look from Striker.

  Jimmy shrugged. “A little bit. That last picture Paisley took might really—“

  Striker clapped his arm on Jimmy’s shoulder, cutting him off mid-sentence, but not before I saw Pepper’s eyes light up. Last picture? We’d have to look into that.

  “We should get going.” Striker turned Jimmy toward the door. “The girls here don’t need any more information than they’ve already gathered. We wouldn’t want to tell them too much or they might go off investigating on their own and that wouldn’t be good, would it, Jimmy?”

  Jimmy’s eyes went wide and he looked from me to Pepper and then back to Striker. “Oh, no, of course not. I wouldn’t give them information they weren’t supposed to have.”

  “Good.” Striker opened the door and pushed Jimmy through. “Then I guess we better get over there.”

  Striker turned, a dark look of warning in his eyes. He nodded at me, then at Pepper and then closed the door.

  “Maybe I should come up with a tea that makes Striker a little more loose with his information,” Pepper mused.

  “I don’t know about that,” I said. “If it has the opposite effect, we’ll never get anything out of him.” I didn’t want Pepper messing with Striker. Sure, it would be nice if he was a little more generous with clues, but I didn’t want to risk any bad side effects. I liked Striker the way he was.

  “Well, you should be able to easily get information out of him, Willa.” Pepper’s lips curled in a smile. “Maybe you need to work on your investigative technique.” She wiggled her brows and my cheeks started to burn. I felt silly—wasn't I too old to be blushing? Then again, at my age it was probably a hot flash.

  “I don’t know about that. Striker’s tough. Jimmy’s an easier mark.”

  Pepper nodded. “What do you think he meant by that picture remark?”

  “I saw Gus put a camera in the evidence bag earlier. They must think there could be a picture of the killer on it. But it looked pretty burned. I don’t know if they would be able to get anything off it.”

  “Right. We can’t depend on that anyway because I doubt they would tell us if they did get a picture. We have to go with what we know. And right now, it sounds like George is our best suspect.”

  “According to Paisley, George would know that she kept incriminating pictures at her house.”

  “So he’d probably go there and try to snag them. We should follow him or something.”

  I glanced back out the window. It had been hours since the fire was set. “He’s probably already been there…”

  Pepper was not to be daunted. “Maybe he left a clue there. We should go to Paisley’s and check it out.”

  “Good idea. Do you know where she lives?”

  Pepper shook her head. “No. Do you?”

  “No, but I know someone who does and she might even be able to help us get in.”

  “Who is that?”

  “Her best friend. Opal Winters.”

  Chapter Seven

  I resisted the urge to run out and talk to Opal right away. Partly because I didn’t know where to find her, but also because someone needed to run the store. I had bills to pay and books to catalog.

  Pepper had a friend on the town council and she promised to contact them and see if we could figure out how to get in touch with Opal. We parted ways and I went back to cataloging my books with an eye on the shop, expecting Paisley to show up and annoy me. She never did. The shop was clear of ghosts the rest of the day.

  Thankfully, it wasn’t clear of customers and I had a large volume of traffic, many of whom cast interested glances over at Paisley’s shop as they browsed for books.

  Toward the end of the day, Pandora got antsy. She paced back and forth in front of the back door.

  “Meow … Meow … meout!”

  Her cries escalated in volume and I felt bad for her despite the pain in my ears. “I know you want to go out, but I can’t let you. I have a date with Striker.”

  “Meownoo!”

  Did she say no? Clearly I’d been spending too much time alone in the shop if her meows were starting to sound like words. But the truth was, I kind of shared her sentiment. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to see Striker, it was just that I needed to start looking into finding Paisley’s killer and I couldn’t do that with him around.

  The bells chimed over my door and I turned around to find Striker standing there as if my thoughts had summoned him.

  “Hey, Chance … about our date …” He hesitated, looking down at his feet in that cute, boyish way that made my heart flutter. He sure did know how to pour on the charm when he was about to give me bad news.

  My left brow ticked up. “Yeah?”

  “I’m sorry, but we’re shorthanded at the station and I have to go back in and get some paperwork done tonight, so I don’t have a lot of time.”

  He looked honestly contrite. I felt kind of bad for him but the truth was, it worked out just as well for me. I wasn’t going to let him know that, though.

  I feigned disappointment. “Oh, no. Really? So, no date?”

  “Well, I do have an hour free now. I was hoping you’d grab a sandwich with me at the Mystic Café.” He tilted his head toward the café down the street. It was a favorite place of ours when we wanted a quick bite to eat.

  “I guess that’ll be okay, but you owe me one.” I’d be a fool to pass up the opportunity to be ‘owed’ one.

  “You got it.” He smiled, setting off more heart flutters. I began to wonder if I should make an appointment with the cardiologist. Was forty-something too young to be thinking about that sort of thing?

  “I’m ready, so I’ll just lock up and then we can go.”

  Striker busied himself petting Pandora, who eagerly rolled over to accept a massage while I turned off the computer and grabbed my purse.

  “I guess I’ll have to lock Pandora in here while we eat,” I said.

  “Meow!” Pandora bolted up off her bed and ran over to the door, shooting angry glares at me.

  “Apparently, she doesn’t like that idea,” Striker laughed.

  “She’s been cooped up a lot lately. I think she wants to go out and roam, but I can’t let her do that here in town.” I turned to the cat. “Sorry, Pandora, you can go out when we get home.”

  I started toward the door, then remembered the toilet paper incident. “Just a sec.” I ran to the bathroom and closed the door. On the way back to the front, I plucked a catnip toy—a stuffed spider with a pouch full of catnip in his body and eight dangly arms—out of the filing cabinet where I’d hidden it in the top drawer.

  I dangled the spider in front of Pandora. “You want to play?”

  Pandora looked at me out of the corner of her eye then at the spider. I could tell she was trying to feign disinterest, but the eight swinging legs were too much for her.

  “Merow!” Her paw shot out toward the spider and skewered it, sending it flying across the room. Pandora took off after it in a flash and we ran to the door, opened it a crack, snuck through, and slammed it shut before she even realized what was happening.

  The last thing I saw walking down the street as I glanced back at my window was Pandora’s face pressed against the glass, her eyes glowing with anger. I wondered what kind of punishment would be in store for me when I got back.

  Striker grabbed my hand as we walked down the street and I felt all warm and fuzzy. Probably just another hot flash. I had to admit, it felt good being with him. Comfortable. We’d been dating for a little over a year and it was starting to feel like this could be permanent. We’d never talked about it, though. That subject was scary for both of us, especially since we’d both failed at more permanent relationships before.

  The Mystic Café was a coffee and sandwich shop, a small place with great food. The kind of place where the locals ate. Tonight it was fairly empty except for the bistro tables on the sidewalk, which were full. We
opted for a more private booth inside. The owner, Myrna, looked at us over her blue cat’s-eye glasses as we entered. “Well, fancy seeing you again.”

  “Again?” I looked at Striker.

  “Myrna called in the fire so I interviewed her earlier today.”

  I made a mental note to talk to Myrna when Striker wasn’t around.

  We slid into a booth and I ordered a roast beef and Swiss with extra onions. Striker ordered a ham and cheese.

  “So, how was your day?” I ask innocently.

  “I’m not going to tell you about the case.”

  “I wasn’t asking.” I knew he wouldn’t tell me anything. He was worse than Gus.

  He reached over and put his hand on top of mine. “Well, in that case, it was pretty good. How about you?”

  “Great. I managed to get most of my backlog of work done. I had a lot of customers. I think most of them came in to gawk at Paisley’s shop, though.” Myrna came with our sandwiches and Striker removed his hand from mine so we could dig in. “Any idea when the photography shop will be fixed up?”

  Striker leveled a look at me. “I see what you are doing, trying to sneak in some questions.” He sighed at my look of feigned innocence. “I guess I can tell you that we need to look at the evidence before we can determine that.

  I wiped a drip of cheese from the corner of my sandwich and put my finger in my mouth, rolling the tang of the salty cheese on my tongue. “I would think someone would want to get her things out … a family member. You know, next of kin.”

  “She didn’t have any … well, not any that we can find to notify.”

  “What? Who has no next of kin?”

  Striker shrugged. “Her parents are dead. She has a brother but he seems to have dropped off the radar. There’s no record of an address for him or anything.”

  Striker must have seen the interest spark in my eye as I mentally added Paisley’s mystery brother to my suspect list. He shifted in his seat. His gray eyes turned stormy. “Don’t go getting any ideas.”

  I shoved the last of my sandwich into my mouth and brushed the crumbs off my hands. “Don’t worry.”

  He looked worried.

  “Anyway,” I glanced at my watch. “We should get going.”

  On the walk back, I hooked my arm in his. Feeling the warmth of him next to me and smelling his woodsy scent made me realize how nice it was to be with him. I almost didn’t want him to leave. Almost. But I had work to do, and there would be plenty of nights to spend with Striker.

  We stopped in front of my store. Pandora hissed at us from the other side of the window, then turned her back to us. I glanced inside for toilet paper or some other mess. I didn’t see anything, which, in itself, made me suspicious.

  Striker turned me to face him. I resisted glancing over his shoulder at the dark photography shop across the street.

  “I’m really sorry about tonight.” His gray eyes were meltingly soft but I barely noticed. My entire being was focused on keeping my eyes on his face and not letting them wander across the street.

  “That’s not a big deal. I understand.” Maybe just one little peek. I unobtrusively stood on my tiptoes and tilted my chin up slightly to see over his shoulder.

  “I have night duty tomorrow night, but maybe this weekend we could go on a picnic or something. I heard it was supposed to be nice.”

  “That sounds great.” Hopefully, by then I’d have found out who the killer is.

  Striker’s big hands found their way to my waist and I pulled my attention from the shop to his lips, which were zeroing in on mine. I wondered if I had onion breath. Judging by the way Striker was kissing me, it didn’t matter to him even if I did. I relaxed into the kiss, opening one eye to peek at Paisley’s shop while our lips were busy.

  Striker pulled away. “Well, I guess I better go.”

  “Right. I’ll just get Pandora and be on my way home.” I made a show of opening the store like I really was going to go straight home.

  “Do you want me to wait for you?” Why did he have to pick now to be chivalrous?

  I waved him off. “Don’t be silly. I get into my car by myself and find my way home every night.”

  He laughed. “Okay, Chance. That’s what I like about you. You’re independent.” He glanced over his shoulder at Paisley’s. “But remember … no investigating.”

  “I’ll remember.” It wasn’t a lie. I’d promised to remember … not to refrain from investigating. There was a difference.

  I unlocked the door and slipped into the store.

  “Mew.” Pandora came over and rubbed against my ankles.

  “You’re acting awfully nice. What did you get into?” I peered around the store, but didn’t see any damage. Maybe she was giving me a break.

  I checked my cell phone. No text from Pepper yet, so we didn’t have a lead on Opal. I guess we’d have to wait until tomorrow to talk to her.

  I looked around for the tell-tale swirl that would indicate a ghost.

  “Paisley, are you here?” I called out into the shop. No one answered. It figured—ghosts never came around when you wanted them and I wanted to ask about her brother.

  My eyes wandered over to Paisley’s shop. It wouldn’t hurt to go over and check that the place was secure, would it? I wouldn’t actually go inside, but if I happened to glance in the window and see something what was the harm in that?

  I checked the street to make sure Striker’s car was really gone and made my way to the door. Pandora was glued to my heels as I opened it.

  “Okay, but be quiet,” I said. I imagined that she nodded her head in understanding.

  Main Street was empty. The shops were closed and there were no cars in sight, so we darted across, slipping into the small space between the photography shop and the butcher next door.

  “Merooop,” Pandora cooed.

  “Shhh…” I walked toward the back of the stores. Better to stay back there than be seen skulking around on Main Street. There was a small parking lot in the back and a dirt road led in from one of the side streets. The back lot was ringed with trees, hiding it from view. Someone could have easily parked here unnoticed and lit the shop on fire.

  I couldn’t do much more than give the parking lot a quick scan for any obvious clues. I didn’t have the time for an extensive search. I was sure the police would have already scoured it, anyway. I eyed the back of Paisley’s shop. A board had been nailed up over the charred frame of the door. The only way in would be to pull that off. I’d have to satisfy my curiosity by looking in the window next to the door. Oddly enough, the fire had not blown out the glass or damaged the window. I pressed my face to the glass.

  It was just starting to get dark out and I couldn’t see inside very well, but it looked like that was where the fire had started. From what I had been able to see from my shop across the street, the fire had not reached the front of Paisley’s store. The back of the store, however, had been burnt pretty badly. I shuddered, wondering about Paisley’s body. It had been found toward the front, so maybe it hadn’t been burned.

  I wondered about the sequence of events. Had Paisley been working late and surprised someone intending to burn her store? Or did they kill her and then set fire to destroy the evidence? Did she die as a result of the fire, or did they kill her before? Maybe she didn’t even know her killer and it was all the work of some random, fire-setting maniac.

  “Meow!”

  Pandora was over by the alley that led back to the street. Apparently, she didn’t find the back of Paisley’s shop as interesting as I did.

  “Okay, I’m coming. Just a minute.”

  I scanned the area around the back door, but didn’t see any clues. There was a pile of charred wood to the left of the door and a cardboard box with a blanket in it. I stepped closer to examine the box. Little white hairs dotted the blanket. Did Paisley have a cat? I scanned the parking lot looking for a cat, but if she’d had one, it was long gone. I made a mental note to keep an eye out.

 
I didn’t find anything else outside. It looked like the place had been swept clean. The surfaces had been dusted for fingerprints. Some wet cardboard was piled next to the dumpster. I glanced in the dumpster, which was empty.

  “Meow!”

  I jerked my head in Pandora’s direction. “Quiet! We don’t want anyone to know we're back here.”

  Pandora gave a haughty toss of her head and started poking at something that was wedged against the asphalt and the corner of the building. Her tail twitched violently, the kink pointing directly at the object of her interest.

  “What’s that?” I walked toward her. She pried it loose before I got there and sent it skidding along the pavement. It slowed to a stop right in front of my sneaker. I looked down. It was a charm. A fancy letter ‘B’.

  I bent down to pick it up. Could it be a clue? I held it up, studying it in the light. Something niggled my memory. It looked similar to something I’d seen before. And then I remembered—it looked oddly similar to the pin that Maisie Beardsley often wore.

  A sense of dread washed over me. Could this charm belong to Maisie? And if so, what was it doing here?

  I slipped the charm into my pocket and stood. I glanced around the alley for more clues, but there was nothing.

  The charm didn’t really mean a thing. It could have been lost at any time by anyone. It didn’t necessarily point to the killer, nor was there any proof it belonged to Maisie. Plenty of people had charms with B’s on them.

  But it made me wonder about Maisie. I doubted the elderly artist would have come all the way out here in the middle of the night to kill Paisley and set fire to her store. For one, I didn’t think she’d be physically able to, and for two, I doubted she was capable of that kind of violence despite her crotchety demeanor. Then again, she had seemed pretty worked up over Paisley winning the slot in the art show.