by Willow Mason
I phoned through to the café and asked if they minded my car staying outside a while longer. The woman who answered the phone didn’t seem bothered, even when I hastened to explain I’d have an engineer over the next day to look at it.
“Well, then. How did people entertain themselves in the old days?” I asked the kitten who pounced onto my leg and tried to tear my jeans to shreds. “Hey, be careful with those,” I scolded her gently. “Until I get myself sorted with some clothes shopping, they’re all I have.”
As the sun sank, I washed out my T-shirt in the bathroom sink, before treating myself to a hot shower. With nothing else to do, I settled into the bed, relishing the crisp feel of the fresh sheets.
“Oh, you’re coming to join me, are you?” A tabby face stared at me in close concentration before snuggling in beside my neck. I felt anxious about rolling over on the ball of fluff during the night but reassured myself that with her sharp claws, I’d probably come out the worst off.
“Night, night, Muffin.”
To my tired ears, her responding meow sounded exactly like, “Good night.”
The next morning, I woke early, blinking in the strong sunlight. With only a small grumble—after all, I’d gone to bed early as well—I dragged myself up and out of bed. Curtains would be a good purchase to add to the list.
Clothes, curtains, maybe a Netflix subscription if the internet had made it out to Oakleaf Glade yet.
With a list like that, it seemed definite I was planning to stay.
As I stared down at the back yard, still tidy though the lawn needed a trim, I hugged myself. Of course, I was staying. Compared to my grubby flat back home where a rotting skirting board wafted the sad smell of decay into the air, this was a mansion.
“Oh, you want to be fed, do you?” I asked Muffin as she roused herself and jumped off the bed to wind in a figure eight between my legs. I picked her up and held her soft fur against my face. “Well, I’d better get a move on, then.”
Dressed only in my underwear, I walked downstairs, feeling full of energy now the cobwebs of sleep had blown away. A note had been pushed through the letterbox gap in the front door and I collected it with one hand, while the other held onto Muffin.
Letters were scrawled in black ink, an inch high. “Get out of town or you’ll die like Esmerelda.”
Chapter Four
For a long moment, I stood near the front door, stunned. It took Muffin wriggling out of my arms to reanimate me. My first thought was to call the police, and I ran upstairs to grab my phone.
Reason reasserted itself before I dialled the third digit for the emergency services. No way did a note shoved through a letterbox count as imminent danger. I should call the non-emergency number. Except I didn’t know what that was.
Thanks to the previous day’s use, my phone also informed me it was out of credit when I tried to scour the internet. I sat on the edge of the bed, realising I was still dressed only in my underwear, then to my horror heard a car pull into the driveway.
With all thoughts of the note gone in my eagerness to get dressed in something presentable, I ran into the bathroom and pulled on my jeans and T-shirt. They were still damp, but they’d do.
I gave a cursory glance at my reflection, which soon turned into a wide-eyed stare. My hair was pink! Not flamingo pink but enough tinges to be evident on my normal mousy brown.
There must be something in the water. Or, more likely, something in the house’s old pipes. With a groan, I dragged a brush through the tangled mess but didn’t make much headway. It continued to reach skywards, even as I splashed water on it.
Doofus! If rust in the pipes was responsible for the colour change, I’d just added to the trouble.
I hooked as much of the mess behind my ears as I could, then leaned in to stare at them in puzzlement. My facial features had always been rounded. Lush my mother called it. Fat was the schoolyard description.
Now my chin and ears were pointed, and my nose had a distinctly impish upturn to the end.
I rubbed my eyes in the hopes the bizarre reflection would change, then turned away as I heard a noise downstairs. The car had pulled to a stop and now someone had just unlocked the door.
Forgetting my appearance, I rushed out of the room and took the stairs two and three at a time.
“You!” I stopped short in the hallway, staring at Brody—the server from the café—with as much alarm as he stared back at me. “How did you get inside?”
He dangled a set of keys. “Sorry, I didn’t realise you’d moved in here already. I thought you’d be staying at the motel in town.”
“I…” My voice trailed off to nothing as I caught his eyes staring at my chest. The damp T-shirt was clinging to my body. With a cry, I crossed my arms and glared at him. “Stop doing that!”
“Sorry again.” His eyes darted off to the side, and he sighed in relief as Muffin sauntered into view. “Esmerelda gave me the keys a few years ago to make sure this one got fed.”
He chucked the kitten under the chin and I felt betrayed as Muffin closed her eyes and leaned into the caress.
“Well, I’m living here now, and I’d appreciate if you didn’t just barge in here when you felt like it.”
I strode through to the kitchen, opening drawers and cupboards in a demonstration of my rightful ownership.
“Are you looking for something?” Brody asked, following me with Muffin now seated on his shoulder.
With a triumphant cry, I pulled an apron out of a drawer, put it over my head and tied it around my waist. Fully covered. “Would you like a cup of tea?” I asked from habit, despite him not being an invited guest.
“Sure.” He gave a smile of thanks and jerked his head towards the driveway. “I also fixed up your car by way of apology,” he said. “Renee at the café told me I’d been a real jerk.”
“You fixed my car?” My mouth dropped open in surprise, then I ran outside, giving a squeal when I saw my trusty Pulsar sitting in the drive. “How much do I owe you?”
“Nothing.” Brody shrugged and rubbed behind his ear. “Like I said, it’s my way of apologising for upsetting you yesterday.”
Although I couldn’t recall any behaviour warranting such an unexpected treat, I wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. “Thank you. I’m very grateful. I wasn’t looking forward to calling a garage and finding out how much of my savings I needed to cough up.”
And my phone was out of credit, so I wouldn’t have been able to do even that.
“Come inside,” I said, hooking my arm through his, the intrusion forgiven. “I don’t have much in the way of breakfast unless you fancy cheese sandwiches or chips, but you’re welcome to them.”
“It sounds delicious, but I’ve already eaten.” Brody gave Muffin a last cuddle, then set the kitten down on the floor. “But I have breakfast for this one,” he said, pulling a muffin out of his jacket pocket.
“Umh…” I stared at the scene, concerned as the tiny kitten leapt upon the treat and soon demolished it. “I’m not sure she should eat that for breakfast. All those carbs. Sugar is the devil, you know.”
“Sugar is delicious, and Muffin didn’t get her name by eating tinned cat food.”
“I’m no vet, but I’m sure it can’t be good for her.”
Brody laughed. “I’ve been feeding her the same thing for the past few years and Esmerelda was feeding her muffins for at least dozen years before I took over. If it was so bad for her, I think she’d have shown the ill effects long before now.”
“Twelve years?”
“More like fourteen, now.”
“But…” I stared down at the sprightly kitten, now pouncing onto a ray of sunlight as though it was a mouse. “She’s only a few months old, surely? Six months, tops.”
Brody chuckled and changed the subject. “Nice shade of hair you’ve got there. Is it new?”
I put a hand up to the wild mess on top of my head and felt my cheeks flood with heat. “It’s not deliberate. My best g
uess is there’s something in the pipes.”
“Hm. I’ll give you a few more days and we can pick up our conversation about Muffin then.” Brody clapped his hands on the kitchen bench, tapping out a short drum solo. “I know I’m meant to be doing you a favour, but do you mind dropping me back to my car? I’ve got to be at work soon.”
“Oh, no problem.” As my gaze travelled over the cold kettle, I flushed again. “And I didn’t get you your cup of tea so it’s the least I could do.”
Brody pulled another set of keys out of his pocket. “These are yours, too, I believe.” He grinned in delight. “It helped me out with my apology, but I must admit, I was surprised to see you’d left them dangling from the ignition.”
If I’d been alone, I would have smacked my forehead. Duh. “Oops. I ran off in such a panic yesterday, I completely forgot.”
When I pulled up near his car, Brody asked me if I wanted to come inside the café for a quick coffee, but I declined. Already this morning, I’d managed to do several very silly things. I thought it better to wait awhile before embarking on another raft of mistakes.
“Do you know of a clothes shop in town, fairly cheap?” I asked before he went. “I’ll need something to tide me over the next few days before I head home and collect the rest of my belongings.”
“There are a few,” he said, quickly jotting two names down on a pad, “but before you splash out any money, check in the attic. Esmerelda had boxed up a lot of stuff for the Sallies that she never got around to donating. Half of it didn’t even look worn.”
I thanked and drove off, concerned at what an eighty-year-old might have thought fashionable. Still, cheapness ran in my family. I’d scrounge through the boxes and if nothing suited, I could take them in at the same time I went shopping for something new.
As I pulled into the drive, Hazel rushed out her house, waving. “Good morning,” she called out. “Where’ve you been?”
“Just dropping someone off. You’re up bright and early.”
Hazel slung an arm around my shoulders. “I wanted to check on my new neighbour. When I heard the car earlier, I thought you might be leaving.”
Her voice was so strained, I hastened to reassure her. “Not likely. I’m in love with this house already. Now I just need to find something suitable to wear…”
“I’ll help.” Hazel swept ahead of me once I’d unlocked the door. “Just tell me what styles you like, and I’ll give you a list of local stores to try.”
“Brody told me there’s a box of clothing up in the attic.”
“Of Esmerelda’s?” Her face showed as much doubt as I’d been feeling. “Let’s have a look but I’ve got to warn you, I have mad skills for fashion but even I have to draw the limit somewhere.”
She picked up the note I’d left lying on the bench, raising her eyebrows. “What’s this?”
I plucked it out of her hand, suppressing a shudder. “Just a welcome note left by someone in town. I’ve ignored it.”
“Give it here.” Hazel grabbed the paper back and read through it again. “You should be careful. This is basically saying someone killed Esmerelda and you’re next.”
“No, it’s not.”
I’d only just snatched it out of her hands again when a knock sounded on the front door. Rosie and Posey stood there, beaming smiles and carrying a cardboard tray of coffees. I accepted one gratefully and noted Posey’s disappointed expression when she handed another to Hazel. I guessed she’d been hoping to keep two for herself since they couldn’t have known my neighbour would be there.
“What were you two fighting about?” Rosie asked, raising her eyebrows. “It sounded very heated.”
“Nothing,” I said at the same time Hazel told them, “Someone dropped off a scary note.”
As the twins turned their curious faces towards me, I sighed and handed them the scrawled warning. “I’m sure it’s just a silly prank. Maybe someone with their nose put out of joint.”
“I wonder what they mean,” Posey said, wringing her hands. “Esmerelda died of natural causes. How could someone expect you to die just like she did without you ageing sixty years, falling over, and bumping your head?”
“They probably just meant the falling bit,” Rosie said with a shiver. “But I think we should call the police. This might seem an empty threat now, but I’ve seen how easily situations escalate. Better we get a cop involved today than try to explain why we didn’t later.”
“Are you sure?” I sipped at my coffee cup, surprised to find I’d already drained it. “I don’t want to make a fuss on my first week in town.”
“Make a fuss,” Rosie said, her phone out and dialled before I could say another word in protest. “That’s why the police are there.”
Posey nudged her sister. “Make sure you ask for Syd. I don’t want to spend half an hour carefully selecting my words in front of Lucas.”
As we waited for the call to connect, my stomach turned over at the thought of my great aunt falling. Even though I’d never met Esmerelda, the thought of injury or violence always made me feel queasy. “I don’t think I’ve been in town long enough to draw a murderer’s attention,” I said in a voice stronger than my conviction.
“Tell the receptionist to let Syd know to bring along Esmerelda’s file when he visits,” Posey said, with Rosie relaying the information a second later.
She hung up the phone and tucked it away in her back pocket. “They’re sending someone out right away.” Rosie nodded to my outfit. “You’d better get dressed properly.”
I had my mouth open to say I was as properly dressed as I could manage, but Hazel tugged my arm. “We were just about to find something decent to wear,” she said, dragging me away. “Could you keep Muffin entertained while we look?”
If the twins tried, they failed, and the kitten jumped through the attic door a few minutes after we started searching. While the first box yielded nothing but shoes, Hazel found a treasure trove in another. She pulled out a white blouse with ruffles down the front and puffy sleeves. As I was complaining it would make me look the size of a whale, she pulled out a corset, her eyes twinkling.
“Try them on,” she ordered. “They look to be the right size. And these,” she dragged out some black jeans, a price tag still hanging from the waist band. “I wonder who Esmerelda bought these for since they obviously weren’t her style.”
“Maybe she foresaw a future where a great-niece would be in desperate need,” I joked, going behind a beautiful Chinese silk screen and pulling off my still-damp clothing. “How’d I look?”
I jumped out, flourishing my arms to either side.
“It’s perfect,” Hazel said, clapping her hands. “I could’ve gone through a dozen thrift stores and never pulled together an outfit more flattering. The purple tints in the corset even show off the new colour you’ve put through your hair.”
I checked in an antique mirror with a gigantic chip out of the base. The tarnish worked to my advantage, softening my flaws. “It does look good.”
“Come on,” Hazel said as flashing lights beamed in through the old leadlight windows. “We’d better get downstairs and you can dazzle Syd with your charms.”
“I don’t want to dazzle anyone.”
“Wait until you get a look at him and I’m sure you’ll soon change your mind.”
We hopped downstairs, Muffin riding all the way on my shoulder.
“That’s better,” Posey said with a satisfied grin. “Now you look more like the lady of the manor.”
“Oh, no,” her sister cried out, twitching back the net curtains. “They’ve sent the wrong one!”
Chapter Five
I didn’t have time to ask the twins what they meant by ‘the wrong one’ and part of me didn’t want to. Instead, I walked to the door and let the officer inside, regretting the entire incident already.
“This is probably nothing,” I said, undermining the meeting in one fell swoop. “Just a prank or something on the new girl in town.” I peered
forward to read his badge. “Nice to meet you, Mr Bronson.”
“It’s PC Bronson, or officer, or Lucas if you meet me off duty.” He pulled out a notepad and wrote something, though I couldn’t imagine what he’d learned.
“Sure, PC Bronson. Anyway, I got a—”
“How long since you moved to Oakleaf?” the officer asked, leaving me at the door as he strode inside and stared in confusion at the twin’s mirror image scowls.
“A day,” I said, then checked my watch. “Almost. I’m not sure how I’ve offended somebody already…”
“I’m getting an idea. Do you two know anything about this?” he pointed his pen at Rosie and Posey.
“We only just saw the note a few minutes ago and insisted Elisa call the station,” Rosie answered. “But there must’ve been a breakdown in communication because I’m sure I asked for Syd.”
“You don’t get to request which policeman answers a call, Miss Hunter. And you forgot to tell poor Louise what the problem was. The woman didn’t have the faintest idea.”
“Then ‘poor Louise’ should remember to ask questions,” Posey said with an uncharacteristic frown. She folded her arms and pressed her lips together.
“Is someone going to enlighten me about this prank?”
I passed the note across. “I wouldn’t have worried you, but Hazel thought it might mean someone murdered my great aunt and my lawyers thought I should take it seriously as a threat…” I trailed off, wincing at how weak my voice sounded.
Bronson sniffed as he read the short sentence, his head bent forward to reveal a large balding patch in his light brown hair. Despite the spreading crown, I would have placed his age in the twenties or maybe early thirties. His blue eyes were sharp above a square jaw stolen from an old-time Hollywood star.
“Esmerelda Spicer died from a head injury sustained in a fall,” Bronson said as he folded the note and tucked it into a plastic bag. “Nobody murdered her.”
“That note indicates the opposite,” Posey said through narrowed lips. “And how’s the coroner to know the difference between a fall from someone unsteady on their feet or from someone pushing her over?”