A Mew to a Kill (14 page)

Just as I got to work on the stack of books behind the counter that still had to be entered into my inventory, I was interrupted by giggling coming from the fashion aisle. I headed over to investigate.

“Now, Bobby, I think you would look great in one of those bow ties—and Frankie, have you considered wearing something other than that dark suit?” Paisley was standing with her hands on her hips surveying Robert Frost and Franklin Pierce. I’d never seen my two shop ghosts so enthralled with another spirit. Paisley really had them wrapped around her little finger.

“Ahem.” I announced my presence and they all looked at me.

“Willa, how nice to see you,” Franklin said as if they weren’t used to seeing me in my own shop.

“It’s nice to see you guys, too. I see you are getting your fill of fashion advice.” Robert and Franklin looked appropriately embarrassed, but I could tell they were smitten with Paisley.
 

She turned around and giggled. “It doesn’t hurt to be dressed nice, even if you are a ghost.” She ran her hands down her sides to indicate the fashionable sheath dress that she was wearing. I noticed it was different from what she had been wearing before. Did ghosts have a wardrobe somewhere with different outfits that they could change into?

Paisley’s expression turned serious. “I hope you’re here to tell me you’ve made some progress on my case. Even though it
is
fun hanging out here in the shop, I
do
need to get to the other side.”

“I have been making a little progress,” I said. “For example, I discovered that there’s another man in your life who may be a suspect.”

Her brow wrinkled. “Another man? What do you mean?”

“Opal said you’d been meeting with another man. You wouldn’t tell her who he was. That leads me to believe that he's someone who can’t be seen with you. Maybe someone who is married. Is there someone besides George you might have had incriminating pictures of?”

“No, there’s no one. No one that I would be blackmailing.” She turned around and looked out the window, wringing her hands and avoiding eye contact with me.

“Really? Are you sure?” Obviously, she was lying.

“Yes. Well, there was someone else.” Her voice cracked and Robert and Franklin’s faces creased in concern. “I mean, he never would have harmed me even though, I guess, I wasn’t that nice to him.”

Now we were getting somewhere. “Who? Who was it? This is a suspect I might have to track down.”

Paisley dissolved into tears. And I do mean dissolved. Her ghostly body literally faded away and she disintegrated into nothing as the tears ran down her cheeks.

"Well, now you’ve done it,” Robert said, giving me a disgusted look. “She’s gone off and we don’t know when we’ll be able to get her back.”

“Nice going, Willa.” Franklin glared at me, then he and Robert turned their backs in a huff and disappeared.

“Fine. I have plenty of work to do anyway.” I spun around in frustration. Paisley hadn’t been much help, but she had verified one thing. There
was
another man. Too bad she didn’t tell me who it was.
 

I was just slipping back behind the counter when something across the street caught my eye. A tall man was standing staring into Paisley’s shop. His posture was rigid, his hands clenched into fists. It was Neil Lane.

As I watched, he turned and looked directly at me. Or at least it seemed that way. His face was contorted. With guilt? Rage? Or something else? I didn’t have time to think because he started across the street, heading straight for Pepper’s shop.
 

My heart twisted with fear. He looked angry, like he was ready for a fight. I grabbed my keys, locked the shop and hurried over to Pepper’s, praying I wasn’t too late.

***

"I have a special blend just for you." Pepper's face was serenely pleasant as she reached under the counter and produced several packages of tea that she slipped into a white paper bag.

I walked down the aisle of her shop, ignoring the delicate pink and green bistro tables with their cheery, gingham seat cushions on either side of me as I advanced toward the counter, my eyes darting from Neil to Pepper and back again. Neil still looked angry, but Pepper didn't seem at all fazed.

"Hi, Willa." Pepper smiled at me, then turned back to Neil. "Neil, you remember Willa, don't you?"

Neil scowled down at me. "You're the nosy lady that was at my house. With her." He jerked his head toward Pepper.

"Well, I wouldn't use the word
nosy,
exactly."

Neil snatched the white bag from Pepper and tossed some money on the counter. "What do you two have to do with Paisley, anyway?"

I shrugged. "We're just fellow shop owners."

His brows mashed together. "It seems like you're looking into her murder." He leaned toward me in a menacing way and my heart beat faster. "I didn't know shop owners conducted investigations."

Pepper and I exchanged a glance.
 

"We're not really looking into it. We just want to make sure it's safe here on Main Street. There could be an arsonist on the loose and our shops could be in danger. We can't depend on the police to protect us. Do you know anything that would be helpful?" Pepper asked sweetly.

Neil's face turned red and he straightened abruptly. "No. And if you people are smart, you'll leave it alone." And with that, he turned and stormed out of the shop.

I turned back to Pepper. "What was that all about? Did he come in for tea?"

Pepper smiled victoriously and smoothed her pink-flowered apron. "Yes. So, you see, the tea I brought him the other day must be working. He said he drank it and it was so good he craved more."

My brows tugged together as I watched Neil stomp down Main Street toward his car. I remembered what Josiah had said about the noise it made and how Myrna had described hearing those same noises the morning of the fire. "Working, schmirking. I thought it was supposed to make him nice. He didn't seem very nice."

Pepper waved her hand dismissively. "I gave him a mild version before. This new one is much more potent. Just the fact that he came in and asked for the tea proves that it's working. Can't you see that?"

Not really. I could tell Pepper wouldn't be swayed, though, so I decided not to pursue it.
 

Outside, I could see Neil had gotten into his car. I listened for the sound of him starting it up. Sure enough, it made choking and gasping noises, just like Josiah had said.
 

I nodded my head toward the window. "Myrna heard a car making noises similar to Neil's the morning of the fire and I saw him on the street staring into Paisley's shop just now. Did he say why he was doing that?"

"Not a thing." Pepper started loading tea cakes onto a three-tiered platter. My stomach rumbled. She placed a piece of pink cake with white frosting on a dainty, gold-rimmed plate which she shoved across the counter at me. The smell of sugar and vanilla wafted up to my nose.

"Tea?" Noticing my hesitation, she added, "It goes great with the cake."

"Okay, but just a regular tea. Not one of your special concoctions."

Pepper laughed. "I promise."

I bit into the cake. It was sweet enough to give me an instant cavity, but that didn't stop me from eating the whole thing. The creamy frosting melted on my tongue.

"So, what do you think he was doing there?" I asked. "They say the killer always comes back to the scene of the crime."

Pepper made a face. "You don't really think he's the killer, do you? It's a pretty flimsy motive. What kind of murderer runs around town buying tea?"

I licked frosting off my fingertips. "I know, but he is acting so confrontational. And the way he was staring into her shop—maybe he was trying to see inside to make sure he didn't leave any evidence."

"Maybe. But it sounds like we have some other suspects, too. Like George and Paisley's brother and, even though I hate to say it, Maisie. Not to mention her other boyfriend. Did you find out anything about him from Paisley?"

I shook my head. "She did verify there was another man, but she wouldn't tell me who it was."

Pepper brought a cobalt and gold china teacup up to her lips and took a thoughtful sip. "That's too bad that she wouldn't tell you. But, if she had incriminating pictures of this person, I know where we might be able to find them as well as other clues that might lead to the killer."

I knew exactly where she meant. "Paisley's house."

***

We agreed to close our shops promptly at five and meet at my Jeep. We debated going over under the cover of darkness, but we both felt kind of creeped-out being in a dead person’s house in the dark. Plus, we weren’t really doing anything wrong that we should be hiding. We knew where the key was and that was kind of like implied permission.

I spent the rest of the day in my shop, waiting on customers and hoping that Paisley would appear again to clue me in on who the other man was. When there was a lull in customer traffic, I found myself standing in front of the window looking into Paisley’s shop. Could there still be a clue in there?
 

As I mulled that over, I saw a figure appear in the alley where I’d found the charm. At least I thought I did. He was tall and lanky, like Neil Lane, but he ducked back into the alley before I could tell for sure. Had Neil come back to take away some evidence the police didn’t find in the alley? I’d looked pretty good myself and was sure there was nothing there. Just that charm … but what would Neil be doing with a charm?

As the day wore on, Pandora recovered from her earlier listlessness and seemed anxious to get outside. Needless to say, she was not pleased when she realized I was locking her in the shop to go on my mission to Paisley’s. I ended up having to throw her catnip spider into the front while I snuck out the back. She’d probably punish me by clawing the sides of my sofa while I was gone.

Paisley had rented a small house in a sparsely populated neighborhood. I didn’t know if the cops had been in there. I’d tried to get the information from Striker, but he was as tight-lipped as ever. I knew there’d be no point in asking Gus even though I did have something on her now. I couldn’t help but smile as I thought up ways I could capitalize on my knowledge of her little hobby.

Opal had told us that Paisley kept the spare key under a flowerpot on the back porch, so we parked the car and headed out back.

The backyard was muddy from a recent rain storm and I saw footprints leading up to the porch. My nerves tingled.

“Has someone been here recently?” I pointed to the prints.

Pepper chewed her bottom lip as she looked down at them. “Maybe the police?”

Or the killer. “Yeah, it was probably them.”

Pepper turned over a flowerpot filled with dry flowers that looked like they used to be marigolds. My heart pinched thinking about how the flowers' death was a direct result of Paisley’s. No one was here to water them anymore.
 

Pepper picked the shiny, gold key up from underneath and we trotted out front.
 

At the front door, Pepper hesitated. “Are you sure we should do this?”
 

I shrugged. “I guess. It’s the only way we have to find more clues.”

“But surely the police have looked in here?”

“They might not be looking for the same clues we are.”

“Good point.” Pepper slid the key into the lock and we heard it click into place. She turned the knob and we stepped inside.
 

Just as we stepped inside, a noise from the back of the house froze me in my tracks. “What was that? Did you hear that?”

Pepper frowned. “No, I didn’t hear anything. This feels kind of creepy, though. Maybe you are imagining it.”
 

We stood there for a few seconds just to be sure. No other sounds came.
 

“I guess it was my imagination,” I said.

We slowly moved further inside. It smelled of something that I couldn’t quite place. I guess if emptiness had a smell that would have been it, kind of old and stuffy. A thin layer of dust had formed on the surfaces and I noticed it was eerily quiet. There wasn’t even any noise coming from outside.
 

Paisley’s place was sparsely furnished—a sectional sofa and a coffee table in the living room, a dinette in the kitchen. All the furniture seemed sad somehow, as if it knew its owner was not coming back.

“Where do we start?” Pepper broke the silence, startling me.

“Good question. Where would you hide incriminating pictures?”

“Hmm … maybe in a drawer. Or maybe a photo album.” She waved her hand at the photo albums lined up on several bookshelves set against the wall between the living room and kitchen.

My heart tugged. The albums must have held the photos Paisley had been so proud of. There was something else on those bookshelves, too—cameras. I walked closer to inspect them.

“These are antique cameras. Some are worth a bundle.” I spent a lot of time at antique auctions. Even though I was only after old books, one couldn’t help but get an education in the other items and I was always surprised at some of the prices old cameras fetched. I saw two rather expensive ones that dated back to the 1800s on Paisley’s shelf.