Probable Paws (Mystic Notch Cozy Mystery Series Book 5) Read online

  I didn’t have a good comeback for that, especially since I was distracted by the way his lips were hovering close to mine. I leaned toward him, and he brushed his lips against mine then, much to my disappointment, pulled back and planted a chaste kiss on my forehead.

  “I’m going to just let you off with a warning this time. Come on, I’ll drive you back to your car.” He opened the door for me, and I slipped in.

  He started up the car and drove the short distance to my Jeep. I was relieved to see Pandora sitting on the hood, leisurely cleaning her face. Striker put the car in park and then swiveled to face me, his arm up on top of the seat.

  “Look. I know you like to keep your journalistic skills honed by looking into these murders, but I think you’re barking up the wrong alley with Adelaide. She was an old woman who died in her sleep.”

  “I know. I wasn’t actually looking into any murder …”

  Striker looked skeptical. His warm hand clasped over mine, and he brought it to his lips then brushed a kiss over my knuckles that sent butterflies swarming in my stomach. “You have a talent for getting into danger. If there wasn’t already a murder, I get the feeling you would incite one. I don’t want anything to happen to you … so I hope you’ll be careful.”

  At least he hadn’t asked me to stay away from the Hamiltons. He was distracting me with the kissing. Another minute, and I might agree to backing off entirely. I pulled my hand back gently, opened the door and stepped out, then leaned back in and blew him a kiss. “I promise I’ll be careful.”

  “I’m going to hold you to that. And I hope you are going straight home,” he said out his car window as Pandora and I hopped into my Jeep.

  “I am.” I did a three-point turn and headed for the main road, waving to him in the rearview mirror as I turned toward town.

  Striker followed me back to town. I had to admit I was a little disappointed when his car turned off instead of going all the way to my house, but then again he had said he was on duty. If that were the case, what was he doing out patrolling near the Hamilton estate? I was sure the police didn’t patrol that far out.

  Striker had said he’d seen my car and thought I might be in trouble, but my Jeep had been parked too far down the dirt road to be seen from the main road. The only way he could have seen it was if he had also been driving down the dirt road. Which made me wonder just exactly what Eddie Striker was up to.

  11

  Pandora wasn’t sure the daisy field was the right place to look for the book. She knew something was buried there, but she hadn’t sensed a magical aura. She knew that the earth dampened any magic buried beneath it. Still, she felt deep down in her gut that the book was not buried. Hidden, but not buried. Her twitching whiskers told her they had been close, though, when they’d been interrupted by Striker.

  Her tail swished on the wide pine floorboards of Willa’s bedroom as she watched the human get ready for bed. She had to admit, she was a little disappointed they’d had to call the search off early, but it was late at night, and she knew humans needed their rest. They didn’t have all day to lounge around napping, as cats did.

  Luckily their foray to the Hamilton cottage had not been in vain. She had learned something important. She’d seen no evidence of the evil Fluff. Not a whisper of his scent or a strand of white cat hair to indicate he had been in the area. Which meant that he was not yet onto the same trail. How long that would last she didn’t know, but at least for now they had a head start.

  It did appear, though, as if Striker was onto the same trail. This was a good sign, as Pandora knew Striker was also looking for the recipe book on instructions from Louis’s ghost. But what clues did Striker have that they didn’t?

  There was only one way to find out.

  Pandora waited for Willa to get settled into bed before slipping out of the room to the kitchen and silently exiting through the cat door.

  The night was still. The moon and stars glowed in the cloudless sky, but Pandora didn’t need them to light the way. She had near-perfect night vision normally and even better vision when she kicked her superior senses into high gear, which she was now doing so as to heighten her sense of smell in order to locate Striker.

  She stuck to the edges of the forest, not going in too deep. Though she was ferocious in battle, there was no sense tempting fate. The woods were full of bobcats and coyotes as well as other creatures that might see her as a tasty meal. When she traveled with the other Mystic Notch cats, she never worried about predators—there was safety in numbers. But tonight she would travel alone. It took time to summon the others, and she needed to find Striker before he, too, retired for the night.

  She raced toward town, her nose sniffing the air in an attempt to catch his scent. She sped past the lingering aromas of family dinners, the sharp fear of a small child having a nightmare, the contentment of an old dog snuggling into the warm blankets at the foot of his owner’s bed, and finally just a whiff of the spicy scent that was Striker.

  His scent led her down a side street that led to the First Hope Church. It being the middle of the night, naturally the church was closed. The parking lot was empty except for Striker’s police car. Striker leaned against the hood, his hands gesturing wildly. At first it looked strange because Striker appeared to be alone, but as Pandora got closer she noticed the telltale misty swirl of a ghost. Louis Hamilton’s ghost.

  She stuck to the tree line, not wanting Striker or the ghost to see her. They were obviously in an animated conversation, and she didn’t want to interrupt them, but she needed to get close enough to listen in. Crouching behind a thick scotch pine, she swiveled her ears like radar dishes and homed in on their voices.

  Behind her, a barely visible path led to a secluded shelter deep in the woods. Pandora knew this shelter was for the many feral cats of Mystic Notch. Her heart swelled with pride as she thought of how often Willa took time out from her day to bring food, blankets, and water to these cats.

  Pandora didn’t know most of the cats well—many were wild and not magical like Elspeth’s cats—but she still felt a deep kinship with them and was happy they were cared for and sheltered. Tonight, however, that was not her concern. Her concern was finding out if Striker’s conversation with Louis’s ghost might yield an important clue that Pandora could use to nudge Willa in the right direction.

  “What in tarnation is taking you so long to find that book?” Louis was saying. “It’s not like I’m asking you to find a long-lost treasure. It’s just one book, for crying out loud.”

  Striker ran his hand through his short-cropped hair, his agitation apparent to Pandora. “Well, if you would just tell me where it is, I’d be happy to oblige. You think I don’t want to get rid of you? I’m looking over my shoulder all the time now, expecting to see you there. It’s irritating.”

  “What are you talking about? I told you to go to the old gardener’s cottage. Adelaide used to store stuff in there. Did you even look in there?”

  “I can’t look in there. Your grandson seems to be doing something in there now.”

  “Doing something in there? What?”

  “I’m not sure, exactly.”

  “Hmm… probably something to do with his computers. I know Adelaide dotes on the boy. She probably gave him access to get him out of the house and away from his evil stepmother. He’s quite brilliant, you know.” Louis tapped his head. “Gets his brains from me. Even though I died before he was born, I still got a right to be proud of him.”

  “Then I don’t know how I can look in there. I didn’t get a chance to see anything when I was there because Willa was there. That really screwed things up for me because now she thinks I’m investigating a murder. Once she gets on the scent of a murder investigation, there’s no pulling her off.”

  “Murder?” Louis swirled, concern creasing his ghostly features. “Was my Adelaide murdered?”

  “No.” Striker chewed his bottom lip. “There’s no evidence of that. Gus would’ve told me if there was.”
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  “Oh, good.” Louis relaxed. “But that’s neither here nor there, I suppose. She’s dead now either way. And I need that book to be able to get to her.”

  “And you are absolutely certain that the book is in the cottage?”

  “I can’t say as I’m absolutely certain. It’s one of the places Adelaide used to store stuff, but if she’s got Max in there now, she’s likely moved her storage. Heck, I’ve been gone so long, for all I know someone in the family cleaned it out long ago. Like that money-grubbing Lisa. Do you know that the few times I’ve been able to manifest in the house I’ve caught her stealing the family silver? Literally!”

  “Lisa?”

  “Poor David. How he let that viper get her claws in him.” Louis shook his head. “His first wife, Emily, was a sweet soul. She’s gone through the golden gates now, lucky thing. She died when Max was just little, and I suppose David wanted someone to mother the poor boy. Too bad he didn’t get what he expected.”

  Through the dark, Pandora could see Striker’s steely eyes narrow on Louis, and she could sense his cop instincts kicking in. “What do you mean? You think Lisa could have taken this book? Why? Does she like cooking that much?”

  “Maybe. Maybe she just wanted the book that Adelaide coveted. If Adelaide valued it, she might think it was worth something. I don’t know, but I’ll tell you one thing. If someone really did do something to my Adelaide, or the book, I wouldn’t be surprised to find out it was her.”

  12

  The next morning I practically had to drag myself to the bookstore. I was tired from the previous night’s foray into the daisy field. Pandora appeared even more tired than I was. She loped along slowly beside me and then snuggled into her cat bed in the window the moment we were inside.

  The regulars weren’t there yet, but I was greeted by Robert and Franklin, who drifted out from the History aisle to swirl beside the desk while I dumped my purse behind the counter and sorted through the sales receipts I’d left beside the cash register the day before.

  “What’s with you? You’re as pale as a ghost.” Robert snickered.

  “Late night with Striker last night?” Franklin wiggled his white brows.

  “No. Not really. Well, I did run into Striker, but I was out looking for that damn recipe book.”

  “Oh, still looking for that?” Franklin made a face then turned to Robert. “Did you find anything about recipes on the ghostly grapevine?”

  “Not a thing, I’m afraid. Though my spiritual sources tell me there might be more at stake than just recipes,” Robert said.

  “Maybe they are recipes about steak.” Franklin tittered.

  “This isn’t funny, guys. I have a feeling there might be more to this, too,” I said.

  “Oh?”

  “I think Adelaide was murdered. Why else would Striker have been out at the Hamilton mansion last night?”

  “Meow!” Pandora stirred in her bed, glaring at me from one slit eye.

  “Right?” I agreed with her and then turned back to the ghosts. “See, even Pandora agrees.”

  “I do hope it’s not going to be dangerous for you.” Franklin swirled with concern, and warmth blossomed in my chest. He might just be a ghost, but it still made me feel good that he cared.

  “Yes, Willa, you be careful.” Robert glanced out the window, then his eyes widened. “We have to go, but you make sure to take care of yourself. You don’t have to go miles before you sleep.” He laughed at the reference to his own poem and then disappeared just as the door opened and Bing, Hattie, Cordelia, and Josiah came in.

  “ … was getting her nails painted bright red and buying designer purses. Not even a decent time of mourning before she started spending the money,” Cordelia was saying over her shoulder to Hattie as they made their way to the sofa.

  “I just don’t know what it is with young people these days. No respect.” Hattie clucked.

  Bing handed me a coffee in a Styrofoam cup as he walked past on his way to one of the chairs.

  “Maybe you were right about Adelaide’s death not being natural.” Cordelia’s words caught my attention, and I slipped out from behind the cash register to join them on the sofa.

  “Why you do say that?” I asked.

  Cordelia huffed, straightening the lapels of her sky-blue polyester jacket. Cordelia and Hattie, identical twins, often wore similar outfits. Today Cordelia had on a sky-blue pantsuit with a navy shirt, and Hattie had on a navy pantsuit with a sky-blue shirt. “Have you seen her around town? She’s high in the instep, and she likes her creature comforts.”

  “It’s true. Coloring her hair, getting her nails done, wearing the latest fashions. You know how it is.” Hattie flicked her hand in the air.

  “She thinks she’s better than the rest of us. Or she wants to be, anyway,” Cordelia said.

  “It’s all to draw the men’s eyes, anyway,” Hattie added.

  “That’s hardly a reason for her to kill Adelaide,” Josiah pointed out.

  I settled back on the sofa and sipped my coffee. The other day I had thought Hattie and Cordelia were just being fanciful with their suspicions concerning Adelaide’s death. The ladies didn’t have much to keep them amused, and their imaginations ran wild at times. But given what I’d learned over the past few days, I was starting to think there might be something to their theory.

  On my visit to the Hamilton house, I’d overheard Lisa say something about being sure she got her “due.” Had she been worried about her portion of Adelaide’s will? But if she was uncertain about what she would inherit, why would she kill her? Why would anyone?

  Striker had been skulking around the Hamilton mansion last night, and Adelaide had mentioned she thought someone in her family had killed her. Gus had denied any evidence of foul play, but maybe something new had come to light.

  It didn’t really matter, though. I wasn’t on a mission to find Adelaide’s killer. It might be true that she was murdered. And maybe Striker was investigating it, but Adelaide’s ghost was only haunting me for the recipe book. This time I was going to keep my nose out of any ongoing murder investigation. Unless, of course, her killer had been after the recipe book all along. If that were the case, then figuring out who the killer was might help me find the book.

  “You look tired, Willa. Is something bothering you?” Bing’s eyes were full of concern, but I thought I caught a glimpse of something else. A knowing look, as if he could read my thoughts.

  “Late night last night,” I said noncommittally as I sipped my coffee.

  Hattie raised her brows. “Oh? Out with that hunky young man of yours?”

  My cheeks heated. “No. Well, not really.” I fiddled with my cup. I wasn’t about to tell them I’d been digging up the Hamilton estate in the middle of the night or that I’d run into Striker there.

  As if thoughts of Striker conjured him, the door to the bookstore opened, and he stepped in with a white bag from the coffee shop down the street.

  “We better be going, sister.” Cordelia shot me a sly look, her eyes twinkling with excitement as she shot up off the sofa. She grabbed Hattie’s hand, and the two of them greeted Striker as they brushed past him.

  “I gotta get to the post office.” Josiah stood and nodded a farewell to me then to Striker.

  Bing had stood, too, and was making his way toward the door. “Looks like I better start the day, too. Unless you’re here to arrest Willa,” Bing joked with Striker as he clapped him on the shoulder on his way out the door.

  “No. Not yet, at least.” Striker watched them leave then held the bag out to me.

  “What’s this?” I peered into the bag, my mouth watering as I spied a glazed cruller and a Boston cream donut.

  “A peace offering.”

  “Don’t you have to work today?” I bit into the cruller, my taste buds doing a happy dance as the sugary glaze coated them.

  “I do. But I wanted to make sure you were okay after last night.”

  “Why wouldn’t I be?” Now my s
uspicions were on high alert. Bringing me donuts and stopping in to make sure I was okay? The circumstances surrounding Adelaide’s death must be more nefarious than I’d thought.

  Striker leaned against the counter. “No reason. I just didn’t know if you went digging up anyone else’s yard last night.”

  “Very funny.” I finished the rest of the cruller. “So what’s going on with Adelaide’s death?”

  Striker scowled. “Nothing.”

  “Meow!” Pandora had jumped down from her bed and was playing with one of her catnip toys. She batted it with her paw, and it slid across the floor, spinning to a stop in between Striker and me. I nudged it back across the room to her with my toe then looked back up at Striker.

  “Nothing? Then why were you at the Hamiltons’ last night?”

  The toy came sliding back, catching Striker’s attention, and he watched as Pandora slid over then used her left paw to bounce the toy off the side of his boot. “I told you I saw your car there.”

  “Nice try. My car was pretty far down the dirt road, so you must have been at the Hamilton estate in order to see it.”

  Pandora batted the toy again, and it skidded to a stop in between the toes of my blue-and-white-striped Keds. I frowned down at it, noticing exactly what the toy was—a white ghost. Was she trying to tell me something? She had been acting very perceptive lately. Maybe she knew something I didn’t. I looked around nervously for Adelaide.

  “I’m the police. I patrol the area.” Striker glanced up from the toy, his eyes drifting around the room.

  “But you’re not the police in Mystic Notch.” I was talking to Striker, but my eyes were still on alert for signs of Adelaide’s ghost.

  Pandora flipped the toy in the air and jumped up after it. She batted it in midair, and it flew across the room, landing at the end of the paranormal and mystical books aisle.

  “Every place I go doesn’t have to do with murder.” Striker stepped closer to me and captured my wrist in his hand. “Honestly, I really just wanted to make sure you weren’t getting into anything that you might not be able to get out of.”