A Mew to a Kill (5 page)

“What are you talking about? I don’t see anyone in the store,” I said as I looked around guardedly.

“Oh, she’s here,” Robert Frost said. “And she’s getting ectoplasmic vapor all over my poetry!”

Franklin Pierce appeared beside Robert, his lips pursed angrily. “Yes, and she’s changed the books and put my books
behind
books about that noxious George Bush fellow.” He folded his arms over his chest and harrumphed.

Robert nodded vigorously. “You’d better come see. The pages in the books are getting wet and that leads to foxing. They’ll be ruined. And you know it’s not that easy to come by my poetry books anymore.”

“She wants to talk to you, Willa. Only you can stop her.”

I didn’t know what they were talking about but I hoped it wasn’t what I suspected. I followed them down the aisle, a sense of doom spreading in my chest as I realized we were heading for the fashion and beauty section. We turned the corner and my worst fears were confirmed. There was another ghost in the store and it was that of Paisley Brown.

***

Well, at least that answers the question as to whose body they took out of Paisley’s shop
, I thought as I watched her leaf through a vintage beauty and fashion book. She looked up at me from her spot perched on top of a round, metal step stool. A frown creased her brow. She tapped the page in the book with her long fingernails which even in ghostly form I could see were painted glossy cherry red.

“I don’t know what these people were thinking back then,” she said. “Everybody knows that waxing is the best way to get your eyebrows into shape.”
 

I guess being dead hadn’t changed her much.

“Sorry about your shop and your … umm … untimely demise,” I said awkwardly.
 

“Yeah. Bummer, huh?” she replied.

“Definitely. But what are you doing in my store?” I dreaded hearing the answer. There was only one reason why ghosts other than Franklin and Robert appeared in my store and it wasn’t because they wanted something good to read on their way to the afterlife.

Paisley slammed the book shut and stood. “Well, it appears you’re the only one that can help me. I need to find my killer or I can’t pass over. Have you ever heard of anything so stupid?”

I shrugged. I had heard of something that stupid. In fact, Paisley wasn’t the only ghost that had haunted me to find their killer. Apparently, I was some sort of amateur spiritual mediator detective that helped bring about justice. I didn’t know much about this stuff, but from what I could tell, these poor souls who had been murdered couldn’t pass over until the murder was avenged. Since I had this strange ability to see ghosts, somehow it had become my job to help them out.

Sure, I probably could have refused but the ghosts could become incredibly annoying and persistent until I gave them what they wanted. I didn’t want Paisley haunting me forever.

“So, you want me find your killer?” I asked.

“Yes, of course. And I’m not going to leave you alone until you do.” She tapped her nail on a front tooth. “Although I have no idea who would want me dead.”

“You have no idea who would want you dead?” I grimaced at the incredulous tone in my voice. Was it possible Paisley had no idea how abrasive she was? “I mean, was there anyone you had an argument with or had something on, perhaps?”

She looked taken aback. “Had
something
on? Why, whatever do you mean?”

“You know, like something you could blackmail them with? You have to be straight with me if you want me to find your killer.”

“Well, I don’t know. I mean, I do collect information on people that gives me the upper hand. You might think I’m just an opportunist that uses things to her advantage, but when you grow up in a poor household with an abusive father like I did, you learn that you have to take these advantages to get ahead in life.” Her eyes misted over and I almost felt sorry for her.

 
“So, what advantages did you take? Did you have something on George to get him to sway the vote in your favor for you in the art show? Maisie implied that maybe you and George were more than friends…”

Paisley blanched, if a ghost could even do such a thing. “Well, George
did
fancy me and I guess I took advantage of that.” Her mouth formed an ‘O’ and she turned wide eyes on me. “Do you think George
killed
me?”
 

“You
were
arguing with him last night in your shop.” I nodded toward the picture window which provided a view into the photography store. Paisley walked slowly down the aisle, quietly staring out the window into her former shop. The police were still in there and I could see Gus and Jimmy with their heads bent together, apparently looking at some piece of evidence.

She turned around, confusion on her face. “It looks like there was a fire in there.”

“Yes, there was. You didn’t know that?”

Her hands flew up to her face. “No. My beautiful photos. Were they ruined?”

“I’m not sure. It looks like the fire didn’t damage too much.” I would have never guessed it, but by the look on Paisley’s face she was genuinely distraught. Apparently, she really was serious about her photography work. Judging by the quality of her work, I’d always thought she’d just opened the shop on a whim. I didn’t have the heart to tell
her
that, though. “You mean you really didn’t know you died in a fire?”

She shook her head. “No. I mean, I don’t remember how I died. I didn’t know anything about a fire.”

“What did you and George argue about?”

“He thought I had pictures of us … you know…”

“And did you?”

“Yeah.” She giggled. “Who would want to see those?”

“He probably thought you were going to use them to blackmail him. Did you mention something about using those pictures to ensure you got a spot in the art show”?

“I might have,” she said innocently. “But I did get that spot in the show, so why would he be afraid that I would use the pictures? I do have
some
ethics, you know. He did seem worried about them, but I promised that I would give them to him, and I eventually calmed him down and he went on his way.”

“So, he didn’t kill you?”

“Well…” She looked uncertainly back at the shop. “I don’t think so. I distinctly remember him leaving and I was alive then.”

“But you stayed in the shop?”

“I guess so. It all gets kind of fuzzy after that.”

“This would be a lot easier if your memory was better. Try to think.”

“Oh, I’m not worried. I’m sure that you’ll be able to find the killer even without my memory. I heard you were the best.”

Maybe she wasn’t worried, but I was. Especially about that last comment. “You did? Where did you hear that?”
 

Was there some kind of person in the afterlife that gave out this information to the newly deceased? Like a Walmart greeter who directed murder victims to my shop? Need to find a killer? That’s in aisle seven at
Last Chance Books
.

“Oh, now, you don’t need to know that.” She eyed me critically. “What you
do
need is a fashion makeover.”

“What?”

She gestured at my body and I glanced down to see what was causing the sour look on her face. I had on my usual, loose t-shirt and jeans. What was wrong with that?

“If you dressed a little sexier, you might be able to get more information from people. That could help you with the investigation. It’s always worked for me.” She ran her hands up and down her body to accentuate the form-fitting tank top and skirt she wore. Even the tendrils of ghostly swirling mist that surrounded her clung to her like a glove.

“You know, your sister could use a makeover, too. She’s always dressed in that unflattering uniform.” Paisley looked back out the window. I followed her gaze. It was true. I hardly ever saw Gus out of uniform.
 

I remembered the last time I’d had to find a ghost’s killer and the resulting celebration in the Van Dorn mansion which had been turned into a museum to honor its former owner, psychic and magician Charles Van Dorn. Gus had surprised everyone by showing up in a slinky black dress which she wore like it was second nature. I hadn’t even known my sister owned a dress, never mind one that she could wear with ease. The dress had suited her and she'd looked great. I wondered if she had occasion to wear it much. I doubted it. As far as I knew, Gus was all work and no play.
 

I glanced back down at myself. Maybe I
should
wear more dresses. Maybe I would look as good as Gus.
 

“I don’t know…” I couldn’t picture myself using my appearance or flirting like Paisley did to get information.

“You have a cute figure and you should jazz yourself up. Plus, the sooner you find my killer, the sooner I can move on and you can be rid of me.” She leaned forward and a blast of chilly air sent goosebumps up my arm. “Until then, I’m going to haunt you mercilessly.”

Great. That was just what I needed, an abrasive ghost that doled out fashion advice following me around all day. I chewed my bottom lip trying to think up any other questions that might help me get a lead to solve this as quickly as possible.
 

Right now, George was my main suspect. Paisley had said she’d been alive when he left, but that didn’t mean he didn’t return and do her in later. If only there was some more concrete proof. I remembered the camera I’d seen Gus’s deputy put in the evidence bag.
 

“There was a camera near your body,” I said. “Were you taking pictures in the shop? Maybe you got one of the killer.”

“Pictures? I don’t remember taking any pictures? But then again, I don’t remember much about what happened after George left.”

“Dying amnesia.” A voice boomed from behind me and I turned to see Robert Frost. “It’s quite common.”

“Yes.” Franklin Pierce nodded in agreement. “It’s like when you get amnesia after a traumatic event.”
 

“Dying certainly is traumatic,” Robert said.

“Especially if you are murdered,” Paisley added, eliciting laughter from Robert and Franklin.

“So, she might not regain any memories about that night?” I asked.
 

“Right. Or she might remember some if it.” Robert spread his hands. “It really depends. Everyone is different.”

Perfect. Paisley might not remember a thing about that night—she wouldn’t be any help at all.
 

Too bad bringing Paisley’s killer to justice wasn’t going to be as easy as her ghost just telling me who it was so I could get a jump on where to look for evidence. It looked like I had my work cut out for me. Lucky thing I had a good idea exactly where to start.

Chapter Six

The ghosts retreated back to wherever it is ghosts go when they aren’t haunting the living. I went back behind the counter to continue cataloging the books, which I hadn’t finished yesterday. Pandora curled up in her cat bed like she didn't have a care in the world. How nice for her.

I hadn’t gotten very far into my cataloging when the bell over the door chimed and my best friend and fellow Main Street shop owner, Pepper St. Onge, came into the shop. She carried a silver platter loaded with a teapot, dainty porcelain teacups and scones. One might think it odd that she walked around with a platter loaded this way but, considering she owned a tea shop a couple of doors down, it wasn’t that unusual. She often came in for tea and to catch up during the times when our shops were not busy with customers.

“Want to take a break?” Pepper’s green eyes quizzed me, her head tilted slightly to the right as she balanced the tray in her left hand. The smell of cinnamon wafted over. My stomach rumbled loudly.

“Of course.” I logged out of my cataloging program and came around the counter to join her on the purple sofa and chairs.

Pepper’s red hair was twirled up in a knot high on her head. She leaned over to pour the tea and one long strand escaped, floating in front of her face and almost landing in the teacup.

Four scones sat on a dainty flowered plate, their lightly browned surfaces sprinkled with sugar and cinnamon. Pepper caught me looking. “Help yourself. They’re apple and cinnamon, a new recipe I’m trying out.”

I tried to be polite, taking the scone and balancing it casually on one of the pink scallop-edged napkins that Pepper had provided, instead of scarfing it down right away. Then I realized Pepper knew me better than that and I gave into my hunger and shoved half of it in my mouth. I was starving. The flavors of vanilla, apple and cinnamon melded together on my tongue. A little moan might have escaped my lips.

Pepper laughed. “Is it good?”

“Umm-hmm...” I mumbled around another bite.

“I can’t wait until you try this tea. It’s a special new blend.” She shoved a pink and green flowered cup toward me.

I eyed the tea suspiciously. Pepper fancied that she had a way with teas. She was always coming up with special concoctions that she claimed could help fix people’s problems. The problem was, her teas often backfired and had the opposite effect. I didn’t really have any problems that needed fixing at the moment, but you never knew what Pepper might have thought I needed.