8 The Witch Who Saw a Murder

by Emma Belmont

  The familiar grinding of the heavy gears greeted them. Mojo cocked his head one way and then the other as she continued to turn the key. But when the final clunk sounded, Mojo leapt back as though he’d been launched by a giant spring.

  Maris jerked her hand back, as her heart leapt into her throat. “What?” she demanded, staring at the cat.

  For a moment his big amber eyes stared at her. Then he looked back at the lock, with the key still protruding from it. As though it had given him a shock, he tentatively sniffed the wood floor next to it. Maris watched as he got closer to it, still sniffing, and then drew back.

  “What?” she said, more quietly this time.

  One of his ears jiggled, then the other, until he shook his entire head. When he’d finished, he simply walked to the wooden hatch and put his paw on it.

  “Oh,” Maris said, finally taking the key. “So, now you’re ready? Now that you’ve given me a fright?”

  Grasping the big black handle, she lifted the door and set it aside. Normally Mojo would rush right down, but tonight he simply peered into the darkness.

  “All right,” she said, taking a few steps down. “Now you’re weirding me out. Are you in or not?”

  She reached under the floor and flicked on the basement’s fluorescent lights. But not even that tempted him. Instead, he reached out a paw to her.

  “What is going on?” she said reaching for him. When she picked him up, he purred. “When did you get to be so skittish about a basement search?” He was starting to act like her.

  Even as she thought it, she paused.

  Had something happened to him recently that made him worried about the basement—maybe even having been trapped somewhere? As she stroked his head, she went down a few more steps. When he didn’t seem to be bothered, she went down a few more.

  “All right,” she told him, “we’ll do this together.”

  On the left, they passed the diagonal collection of books that had been her first introduction to what lay in store below. At the bottom of the steps were the familiar hat boxes, and off to the side the dresser with the old suitcase on top. She had searched the dresser drawers completely when she’d found the silver chain, so she passed it up. But as she neared the edge of known territory, a familiar tightness in her chest began. Whether Mojo sensed it or not, she didn’t know, but he chose that moment to look up at her. Then he squirmed to be put down.

  “Have it your way,” she said, as he bounced lightly away.

  They ended up near two large crates against the wall. He jumped up on the first, and then the second, at her eye level. Though she glanced back over her shoulder to the stairs and felt the perspiration on her forehead, she was determined to at least make a little search now that she was here.

  When she glanced back at Mojo, he’d turned toward the wall and was sniffing it.

  “What could be interesting about a wall?” she muttered.

  But as she watched him slowly move sideways to keep exploring, she realized it wasn’t a wall.

  “A door?” she said, her eyes widening.

  Though the wood had faded to gray, as had its frame, it was definitely a door. It was made even easier to miss by its edges, hidden by a thick layer of dust. It looked like it hadn’t been opened for many years—understandable with the big wooden shipping crates in front of it. But if it was a door…

  “The basement could be huge,” she whispered.

  With a quick look at her surroundings, and knowing the layout of the house above, she guessed that they were in the vicinity of her bedroom door. If that was the case, it was possible that the basement floor ran the entire length of the B&B.

  “Good grief,” she said as her mind tried to wrap itself around the new dimensions.

  But having discovered the door, Mojo was no longer interested in it. Instead, he jumped down from the top crate and landed on a wood box to the side of it. But unlike the bottom crate on which it also sat, the wood was finished. In fact, the more Maris looked at it, the more she realized how nicely it was made. Its softly rounded corners were joined by fine mortised tenons. On top was a lid that looked about three inches deep, with an ornate brass handle. Two more handles were on either side, but they looked more like suitcase handles. The entire thing was about two feet on each side and now Maris could see that it had drawers all down its front.

  Her pulse quickened. “Is this a jewelry box?” If there was anywhere she’d find the beautiful green stone pendulum, it’d be here.

  Eagerly, she pulled out the top drawer, but it wasn’t jewelry that she found. It was a treasure of a completely different kind.

  “Would you look at this,” she muttered, picking up a tiny screwdriver with a wooden handle. She glanced at the other drawers. “It’s a toolbox.”

  She returned the screwdriver to its rightful place, in order of height among the others. The next drawer seemed to contain measuring tools. She picked up what looked like a thick ruler with metal ends, but realized that it could be unfolded and might be used to measure up to a yard. Replacing it, she also saw a compass that still held a pencil, a small right angle, and a bubble level.

  Mojo jumped down to the first crate, and sniffed the edge of the box.

  All the drawers held similar collections of hand tools that must have once belonged to a fine craftsman. In fact, Maris didn’t even recognize several of the tools. The last drawer at the bottom was the deepest and the heaviest. Mojo watched as she finally tugged it open. She barely had time to see something pink in the front corner of the drawer, before Mojo snatched it up.

  “Hey,” she protested, reaching for it. Only then did she see what it was—a toy mouse with little black beads for eyes and a thick string for a tail. “Oh,” she said, as Mojo watched her. She smiled at him. “I might have known.”

  He leapt down from the crate and trotted back to the stairs.

  Maris quickly closed the tool box. “So much for teamwork.” Although she grasped the handles to either side and lifted, the box barely budged.

  “Whoa,” she said, letting them go. A wooden toolbox full of tools was heavy. She’d have to get Bear to help her.

  She turned back to the stairs just in time to see Mojo race up them—without the toy. As she hurried to follow him, she glanced in every direction, but there was no sign of it. He’d somehow managed to stash it already.

  He was waiting for her at the top of the stairs.

  “You know,” she told him as she lowered the hatch, “if we really are a team, you’d show me where the toys are.”

  Rather than mew, or purr, or even leave, he simply sat there and stared at her.

  She regarded him in return. “I see.” She locked the door and stood, looking down at him. “Well, next time we’ll see who’s a team player or not.”

  When she left, he was still sitting there.

  28

  The next morning, when Bear brought his empty breakfast tray in from the porch, Maris was waiting. She and Cookie had just finished loading the dishwasher after another praiseworthy meal. He set down the tray and the dishes were so clean that you’d never know there’d been a tall stack of pancakes, three muffin and egg sandwiches, and a small mountain of breakfast potatoes.

  “Thank you, Cookie,” he said. “It was delicious.”

  At the sink, ringing out a rag, she smiled at him over her shoulder. “You’re very welcome, my young friend.”

  Maris took the tray to the sink. “Bear,” she said, “before you start your work today, I wonder if you could help me with something.”

  “I will,” he said.

  Maris grinned at him as she rinsed his plates. “You haven’t even heard what I’m going to ask.”

  He shrugged, and a little color rose to his cheeks. “I can always help. Everybody can.”

  As Maris loaded the dishes, she said, “Now that’s a can-do attitude if I’ve ever heard one.” She closed the dishwasher and dried her hands on a towel. “I found a vintage toolbox in the basement yesterday. I tri
ed to lift it but it’s too heavy.”

  He frowned a little. “You shouldn’t lift heavy things, Maris.”

  As she passed him and headed toward the hallway, she waved her hand. “Oh believe me. I most certainly did not lift it. It’s dead weight, as far as I’m concerned.”

  He followed her to her bedroom, but stopped at the door. When she grabbed the key and went to the opposite side of the room, she realized he hadn’t followed her. When she looked back, he gave her an odd little wave.

  “I’ll go through the lighthouse,” he said, and was gone.

  “But…” she said, though it was too late. “It’s faster this way,” she said to no one. She shrugged. In the utility room, she unlocked and opened the hatch, just as Bear came through the door on the other side. “That was quick.”

  He was breathing a little hard, and just nodded his head.

  “I’ll show you where it is,” she said.

  On her way down the stairs, she turned on the lights. At the bottom, she stood aside and pointed toward the wooden shipping containers. “It’s on top of that first crate.”

  Without a word, he went over to it, grasped the side handles, and lifted it. By the way he turned and walked back, it seemed like it weighed no more than a bag of groceries to him.

  She quickly led the way back up. When he exited the way he’d come in, she closed and locked the hatch, before following him out. He was already halfway to the side porch by the time she left the lighthouse through its other door.

  The fog had just started to lift as Maris followed him to the table where they usually had lunch. He gently set it down and slowly ran his thick fingers over its rounded corners.

  “This is nice,” he said quietly.

  “It’s so nice,” Maris told him, “that, at first, I thought it was a jewelry box.”

  He delicately took the ornate brass handle at the top, and opened the lid. Inside, as neatly arranged as the rest, were some small glass bottles and folded cloths.

  “Do you think any of these would be useful?” she said.

  His eyes got big. “Useful?” He pulled open the other drawers, one at a time, examining each with an appreciative murmur. He closed the last one. “All of them.”

  Maris frowned a little. “All of them? I mean, I don’t even know what some of these things are.” She picked up an odd metal tool from the top tray, where it had been stored with the bottles. “Like this.”

  When he held out his hand for it, she gave it to him.

  “Especially this,” he said. “It cuts glass.”

  She gawked at it. “That?”

  About the size and shape of a pencil, it had a metal ball at one end as big as a marble. At the other end it was jagged, as though little u-shaped chunks of it had been sawed out.

  Bear ran his finger over the tip of the jagged end. “This is a carbide wheel.” When Maris took a closer look, she could see a tiny metal wheel at the very tip. “You dip it in oil.” He pointed to the little bottles. After he switched his grip to hold the glass cutter like a pencil, he made as if he was drawing a straight line with it. “Then you score the glass.” He flipped the tool around. “Use the ball to tap underneath the score so that the glass starts to crack. Then you just break it off. If there are jagged parts left on it, you can use these teeth.” He thumbed the u-shaped cutouts. “The edge of the glass goes in these, depending on the thickness, and you can crack them off.” He picked up one of the stoppered bottles and shook it next to his ear. “It still has oil.”

  “Wow,” Maris said. “Tools to cut glass.” She glanced up at the optics house. “Pretty handy to have at a lighthouse.”

  Bear put the cutter and bottle back. “This is a treasure,” he said. “Especially with the hardware store closed.”

  “Closed?” Maris asked, recalling that Mac had locked up yesterday. “Still?”

  The big man nodded. “It was this morning. I might have to start shopping in Cheeseman Village.” He carefully closed the lid of the tool chest. “I shop there more now anyway, when Superior Hardware doesn’t have what I need.” He patted the top of the wood chest. “Should I put this away?”

  “Back in the basement?” Maris asked.

  He shook his head. “I was thinking in the garage, where it would be handy.”

  Maris smiled at him. “That would be great, Bear. Thanks.”

  29

  Once her chores were done, Maris tracked down Cookie. Today would be an excellent day to pick up lunch, since she’d be visiting so many restaurants. She found the older woman doing an inventory of the pantry.

  “Anything we need?” Maris asked her.

  Cookie slid one of the clear drawers back into place. “Nothing at the moment,” she said, glancing over her shoulder. “The guests really aren’t spending a lot of time here.”

  When she turned to her, the older woman eyed the purse. “Heading into town?”

  Maris nodded. “I’ve got several stops to make. Does any place in particular strike you as good for a lunch pickup?”

  Cookie put a finger to her chin. “Let’s see.” Maris could see the gears turning behind her eyes—likely pulling up an inventory of what they’d eaten recently. “Will you be stopping by Flour Power?”

  “In fact, I will,” Maris said.

  “Wonderful,” said the chef. “It’s been a while since we’ve had any of Fab’s subs.”

  Cookie headed to the door and Maris followed her, turning off the light. “Any sandwich in particular?”

  “They’re all good,” Cookie said, as she went to the kitchen. She stopped and turned. “Why don’t you pick?”

  Maris smiled. “I think I can do that.” She gave her a little wave. “See you in a bit.”

  Outside in the warm sun and briny breeze, Maris strode to her car. As she glanced at the garage, she thought of Bear putting the toolbox there. But then she remembered what he’d said about visiting the hardware store. As she got in and strapped on the seat belt, she remembered rushing there to find business as usual and Guy helping a customer who couldn’t find something. As she started the engine, she recalled Max telling her that Bear had to improvise with the pizza oven. Then, when she’d first visited Superior Hardware, she’d bought the last box of small nitrile gloves.

  “Hmm,” she muttered, and gently tapped her temple.

  In her mind’s eye she saw the scene in Rudy’s office when she’d discovered his body. She focused on the computer screen. He’d been working on some type of ledger that looked like a list of the goods in the store. She’d seen similar types of reports in her years in the hospitality industry. It was a database summary, an inventory.

  She frowned when she realized that many of the line items were highlighted in red.

  Was Rudy having a cash flow problem?

  Maris started the car. Even if he was, what did that have to do with someone poisoning him or Joy?

  30

  As Maris pulled through the driveway of Flour Power Gas & Sandwiches, she passed the red, 1950s style pumps and retro overhang to park in front of the shop. Next to it, the repair bay’s rolling door was up and she could see Jude’s legs sticking out from underneath someone’s car. As she turned off the engine and dropped the keys in her purse, her phone rang. It was Mac.

  “Good morning, Sheriff,” she said, smiling.

  “‘Oh life, how pleasant in thy morning’,” he said. “‘Young Fancy's rays the hills adorning.’”

  Maris had to grin. “Was Burns a morning person?”

  Mac laughed. “Only when it came to poems. Old Rabbie was probably more of a drink-late-into-the-night kind of guy.”

  Maris chuckled. “I see. It’s hard to get up in the wee hours, when you’re up until the wee hours.”

  “Exactly,” he agreed. “But as much as I’d like to talk all things Burns with you, I’m calling with some information.”

  “Great,” Maris said. “I have something for you too.”

  “Good,” he said. “The coroner’s report has
come back. Rudy Schmid did, in fact, die of botulism poisoning.”

  Though he couldn’t see it, Maris nodded. “No surprise there.”

  “The surprise wasn’t in his system,” the sheriff said. “It was in his desk.”

  “A surprise?” she asked.

  She heard the rustle of papers. “That large, plastic syringe was found in the middle drawer. It was loaded with botulinum toxin.”

  A shudder ran down her spine. “Good grief. An entire syringe full?”

  “Exactly,” he said. “It’d be enough to kill the entire county.”

  She frowned. “I guess you could call it a smoking syringe, of sorts.”

  “But it doesn’t make sense, does it. If Rudy had used the syringe to somehow poison Joy, why would he keep the evidence?”

  Maris watched as a car pulled up to the available pump. “And even if he did decide to keep it, how was he poisoned? By accident?” She shook her head. “You’re right. It just doesn’t hang together.”

  For a few moments there was silence. Then Mac said, “You have some news as well?”

  “Not news, as such,” she said, “but something I remembered about Rudy’s office.” She recounted the inventory data and wondered again if Superior Hardware might not be having cash flow problems. “In fact,” she concluded, “Bear mentioned that they were still closed this morning.”

  “Oh?” Mac said. “I let Mrs. Schmid know yesterday that forensics was done.”

  “Hmm,” they said together.

  Maris heard a radio squawk in the background.

  “If I come up with anything else,” he said, “I’ll give you a yell.”

  “Likewise,” she said. “Thanks for the call.”

  “Anytime,” he said, and hung up.

  Just then, Guy Koch came out of the sandwich shop with a bag that looked very much like he’d ordered a couple of the subs.

  Maris tucked the phone into her purse, grabbed the small stack of pizzeria coupons next to it, and got out of the car. But by the time she’d locked the door and turned to say hello, he’d gotten into a car on the far side of the station, at one of the pumps. She heard the engine start and knew he’d never hear her. As she watched him drive away, she wondered why the hardware store wasn’t open.