Empaths and Paws

by Penny Brooke

  I shook my head to wipe out the confusion. “Yes, ma’am, well, you needn’t worry because I run a boarding house, a tearoom, and an antique store—at least I hope to, soon. I’m not selling palm reading, seances, or any mode of contact with departed souls.” As soon as I said that, I realized what she thought I was doing. She obviously assumed that the mummies in my closet were publicity stunts that could cut into her business. “Oh, now I see what you’re afraid of. The mummies are getting too much attention, right?”

  “And phony as the day is long.”

  “I see. Well, Ms. Tyson, you don’t need to worry. I’m not interested in selling anything to do with dead people.” Except their antiques, perhaps, I thought to myself. “Let me walk you out, shall I?”

  Her answer was an indistinguishable nasal sound, and she supported herself with the table as she hefted herself to her feet. “I can find my own way out. Mind you, Fiona Parkins, you haven’t heard the last of this.”

  “That sounded like a threat,” came the deep, sullen voice of Fred, who’d just arrived home.

  “Take it as such if it pleases you,” she sniffed. “Who are you?”

  “I’m your worst nightmare,” Fred said. “Now, shoo!”

  Bernette jumped as high as her weight would allow as her jowls descended to lie on her ample chest. Her eyes wild, her hand did a mid-air swipe as if brushing away bad odors before she headed to the door with great rocking steps and slammed it on her way out. Or, at least she tried to, but her posterior cushioned the effect.

  “Boy, this is all I need.” There wasn’t a single psychic bone in Bernette’s cumbersome body, but if she could make a few bucks convincing people she was the voodoo princess, who was I to make an enemy of her?

  Fred swatted the air. “Ah, she’s just a busybody. I wouldn’t worry about her unless she’s facing you in a three-point stance in a fourth-down and one situation.”

  I laughed at the visual. “Fred, you always cheer me up. So? How did you like the beach?”

  “Interesting. Fiona, I’m gonna sleep in that mummy bedroom tonight.”

  I whirled around to see if he was still teasing. He wasn’t.

  “Why would you want to do that?”

  “Why not?”

  “Do you think the mummy checks in and just goes to the closet to sleep?”

  “Close.”

  “Whaaaat?”

  “Never mind. Just keep the others out. In fact, I’ll block the door with a chair so no one can get in. As far as anyone thinks, I’ve moved in there for good. Got it?”

  “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

  “Don’t I always?”

  I nodded. “Uh-huh, and that’s why you spent the better part of the day looking for a bar.”

  Fred’s head tipped downward as his bushy eyebrows gathered. “Oh, now, Fiona, that wasn’t nice, especially coming from you.”

  My guests were more than a little jumpy. I suspected if there was another room option in town, most of them would have already left. I didn’t blame them. In fact, I couldn’t say I was all that comfortable myself. This wasn’t a murdered body and killer hunt; this was something closer to a magic trick except that my bedroom closet was the stage. I wondered about competition. Could someone else in town be arranging this show to scare off my guests for their own reasons? Bernette Tyson’s ample silhouette came to mind.

  I suggested an evening’s game of cards in the dining room, and everyone seemed to jump at the idea. I guessed they welcomed the diversion, as well as the excuse to not go to bed quite yet. As a result, they took turns saying, “Let’s play another one,” and eventually, I looked up to see the clock read one in the morning.

  “I’m calling it a night, everyone,” I announced, rising to put Sherlock to bed. I gathered the other two with me as I climbed the carved wooden stairway. I was feeling abnormally tired. If I had to guess, I’d say the stress was getting to me. Fred was behind me on the stairs. I gave him a limp grin as he shut his door, and I heard the chair back being wedged beneath the knob. I hoped he knew what he was doing.

  To my great surprise, the night went without incident, and the next morning, I felt energized by the first decent night’s sleep I’d had since the entire ordeal had begun.

  I caught Fred’s eye over the breakfast table as he shook his head. I knew if anything had gone on, he would have let me know. He didn’t want to alarm, or alert, the guests.

  As a surprise, Gretchen and I packed box lunches and suggested everyone head for the beach. There was a decided lightening of the atmosphere as everyone went back to their rooms to gather swimsuits and lotion. A part of me wanted to freeze time, send all the boarders off on a luxury cruise through the islands, and hopefully come up with an answer to the mystery while they were gone. That, however, wasn’t an option, so I stuck to the routine to keep things as normal as possible.

  Ben came out of his room, his arms empty.

  “Aren’t you going with the others?” I asked. “My treat.”

  He shook his head. “Got a job to look over a system in a house that caught fire a few weeks ago. They figure it was arson to collect the insurance, so they need an expert who knows what he’s looking at to give an opinion. It could be a nice little unexpected cash for me, you know. Go through the whole house, opening walls to check the wiring, might take a week to do it right. Then, if something is beyond using, they’ll probably hire me to pull it out and replace it. That would be—”

  “Sounds nice, Ben. Good luck with that!”

  He nodded and asked, “You going to be all alone?”

  I smiled, noticing an eager look on his face. “Yes, almost. I have to go to the market this morning, but this afternoon, it will be blessed peace. I might take a whack at that book I’m writing.”

  “Didn’t know you were a writer.”

  “Mostly in my dreams. Don’t have much time left over with this place as it is.”

  He nodded as he passed by me on his way down the staircase. I heard the door close. There was a noise from down the hall. I’d forgotten Fred didn’t go with the others. That left just me and him in the house. I had to admit, it felt good to have a breather without worrying that someone was listening in.

  There was a tap on the front door, and it swung open. Peter. “Good morning!” I greeted him with a cheerful smile. I went down the steps and touched his arm. He didn’t pull away. “Let’s get ourselves a coffee and some leftover blueberry pie, shall we?”

  “Fiona, you always know how to get me.”

  I savored his words and instantly wondered if I’d put too much stock in them. I had missed Peter all those years. In my heart, I knew he’d been one of the reasons I’d come back to Tempest rather than turn the estate over to lawyers to sell. At that moment it felt like we were in our own house and behaving just like couples behaved. I liked how that felt.

  “Anything happen?” he asked as he sat down at the dining room table.

  I shook my head. “You do know that Fred has taken over that room, don’t you?”

  “Not really. Who is Fred?”

  I laughed. “Oh, my, he’s my old boss. He’d had enough, too, and when I contacted him to help me sort through all this—after all, he’s an investigator, too—he was here the next day.”

  “Did I hear my name mentioned?” We leaned back to see Fred coming toward the dining room. “Am I interrupting?”

  “No, Fred, this is Peter. It’s about time you two met.”

  “How you doin’?” Fred held out his hand, and Peter shook it. Fred took a seat across from Peter.

  “Fred, would you like some coffee and blueberry pie?”

  “You have to ask?”

  I got up to get his pie and heard Peter say, “So, you’re the boss.” It was a statement.

  “And you’re the Peter I heard about all those years.”

  I came back into the dining room to see Peter’s surprised reaction. To ease the testosterone tension, I said, “Yes, and I’m the woman who has too
many mummies.” My comic attempt fell short, but at least there was pie to fill their mouths.

  “Sheriff, you have any ideas what’s going on?” Fred asked.

  Peter sipped his coffee, taking his time. “Not really. But then other than taking down the initial police report, I’ve been kept out of the loop. The state boys have been handling it.”

  “That’s gotta suck,” Fred remarked, and I felt the energy lighten as a sense of camaraderie began. Fred seemed to know exactly what to say. It was almost as if—he was! Fred was a sensitive. Why hadn’t I picked up on that before? He even went so far as to tell me his mother had been. How could I have been so blind? I caught his eye, and he was looking directly at me with a twinkle. He knew I’d just caught on. I heaved a sigh of relief.

  Peter nodded. “I guess I’m not good for much but directing traffic and parades.”

  “Aw, wouldn’t go that far,” Fred replied. “My guess is that it’s the job duties holding you back, not the man who holds the position.”

  I could have kissed Fred about then. All the taciturn, sometimes nasty remarks he’d made over the years, and here he was, being nice. It was almost too much to take in. I winked at him.

  The men got into telling old war stories about their time in the field. I hadn’t known it, but Fred had been a cop in his earlier days. “Took a slug in the calf and never could be on my feet long after that,” he said.

  “So, that’s how you had so many contacts and knew insider information,” I marveled.

  “Part of it,” he replied, giving me a look that made me silent.

  The atmosphere was becoming downright jovial when there was a sort of rattling, grinding noise overhead. Fred leaped up. “Fiona. I heard you mention upstairs that you had to go to the market, is that right?”

  “Uh, yes, I was talking to Ben before he left to go do a job.”

  Fred nodded. “What I figured.”

  “Wait a minute,” I said, putting a finger to my lips. Why hadn’t I thought of this sooner?

  “What is it, Fiona?”

  I rose from the table in a hurry. “I need to move my car. Peter, with all due respect, go move your squad car out of sight.”

  “What the—” Peter began.

  “I’ll fill you in. Just hurry. Where’s your car parked, Fred?”

  “In the back.”

  “Good, keep it there.”

  “Very observant, Fiona,” Fred said, nodding. I could tell he’d been working on this puzzle, and was glad to see I still had it in me. I spared a moment to flash him a smile, then motioned for Peter to join me.

  After I grabbed my keys, Peter and I went out and moved our cars. We moved them a street over where we could keep them in view, but only because we knew they were there. We got back to the house, and I had Fred and Peter following me up to the top of the stairs. I held my finger to my lips to silence them. Motioning, they followed me as I went into my room, quietly opened the door with the stairs, and soon we were in the widow’s walk.

  “Okay, you can talk low up here,” I said. “But we’re here to watch.”

  Peter spoke up immediately. “You mind telling me what we’re looking for?”

  “Sheriff…” I noticed Fred was respectful and used Peter’s official title. “…I think you’re about to make a name for yourself. If Fiona is right, that is.”

  I cast him a sideways glance, knowing he also had an idea of what was going on here.

  “If you’ll stand here and watch the west,” I said to Peter, “I’ll take the northern point and Fred, you take the south.”

  “What are we watching for?” Peter asked.

  “Any kind of vehicle that could hold a sarcophagus. By my estimation, they average six inches shy of a casket since people were shorter in those days. If you see something like that approach, let the other two know, and we’ll watch to see if it parks near the house. I’ll explain more later. Get going.” I gave him a very gentle push to the southern face of the widow’s walk.

  Just as I’d predicted, a vehicle was approaching.

  “There’s a van coming,” Peter called softly, “but it’s just Ben. His electrical van. Should I run down and catch him? Bring him up here?”

  “No!” spat Fred vehemently.

  Peter was looking at him, but his expression was of a dawning understanding of what Fred was after.

  “Okay, he’s pulling up to the house,” I said, still watching intently.

  “Good,” Peter commented, now fully grasping what we were getting at.

  Ben pulled up to the curb, got out, and took a minute to look around. Satisfied by the lack of cars and judging the house to be vacant, he went around to the back of his van, opened the doors, and pulled out an empty gurney with a jerk to cause its folded legs to open. He pushed it toward the house, and once he was on the covered porch, we could no longer see him.

  “Now, Peter,” Fred said, “before he gets away, would you please watch as he heads to the bedroom and when he’s not looking, sneak out the back to your car and come around to the end of the block. He’ll be out in a few minutes with what I expect will be another sarcophagus, and when he does, tail him until you find where he’s been taking them.”

  Peter nodded. “You sly devil,” I heard him mutter as he passed behind Fred’s back and headed down the steps.

  “But Fred, shouldn’t we trap him in the bedroom?” I asked. “We won’t have proof.”

  “You let me worry about that. Watch yourself. Stay back, so Ben doesn’t spot you, but watch for when he leaves.”

  My adrenalin was pumping through me, and I loved it! “Okay, he’s bringing out a sarcophagus.” I was shorter and thinner, so I kept watch in front of Fred, who hung back around the corner. “He’s opening the back doors of the van. There it goes—he pushed it in and slammed the doors. He’s getting in and started it up. He’s pulling away. Oops, there goes Peter after him. I hope Ben doesn’t see him. Hard to miss a sheriff’s car.”

  “He’s a good man; he knows how to tail somebody,” Fred assured me, and I felt a small thrill of pride in his estimation of Peter. “Okay, let’s get downstairs.”

  “The guests will be back anytime,” I pointed out.

  “That’s okay. Your problems are over. We got him. Good work, Fiona.”

  “I just wish I knew exactly how he’s getting the mummies into my closet.”

  “You’ll see, Fiona. You’ll see.”

  We went downstairs, and I cleaned up our snack in the kitchen and began peeling potatoes for dinner. Fred disappeared upstairs, and I heard a bang on the wall and then his footsteps coming down. He walked in behind me. “We’ll wait for the sheriff.”

  I nodded and stuck with my work.

  12

  The End is Near

  When Peter came back, I looked out to see Ben in the back of the squad car. “Did you arrest him?”

  “Yes, but I need evidence to hold him. I’m hoping Fred can help in that department.”

  “No problem,” Fred spoke up. “Let’s go into the library.”

  Fred pushed a slim card into a device that he wired to the television. A picture popped up, and there we saw Ben’s back in the closet.

  “You rigged up a camera,” I spoke up. “You knew what he was up to way before I caught on.”

  Fred acknowledged my statement with a nod, then turned to Peter. “Sheriff, did you have a shipwreck at the coast a couple of nights ago in the storm?”

  “That we did. I think I know where you’re going with this.”

  “Be my guest,” Fred deferred to Peter.

  “Fiona, as your wily friend has most likely discovered, the coast is filled with grottos and hidden harbors where ships often wrecked in storms, thrown against the rocks. People who lived along the water even extinguished lighthouses and set fires elsewhere to fake a safe harbor, causing the ships to wreck. As the crew struggled to save themselves, the wreckers began combing the shallow waters for any bounty that came off the ship. Sometimes they’d board
if they had the time and look for valuables that made their haul worth it. My guess is that one of those wrecker groups lived here in Tempest, on the coast, and tunneled through to Mortimer House.”

  My eyes went wide. “Whaaat? You mean there’s a tunnel under my house?”

  Fred nodded. “Most likely, more than one. It wasn’t unusual to honeycomb the area, attaching several homes, so there was always an escape route.”

  Peter took over. “The part I couldn’t tell you was that the first mummy was typed and traced to the Middle East. I’m guessing the others are the same, although they used mummification all over the world. They’re rare, however, and that’s what makes them valuable. People with money to throw away compete for exotic antiquities to collect. Since Mortimer House has been empty, it was the perfect route for them.”

  “But why would Ben get involved?”

  Fred shrugged. “He was well paid. He’s got an ego. He thinks he knows everything about everyone in town. Now, if you’ll look at the video I set up, Ben is opening the panel in the wall. I looked downstairs and found a modified dumbwaiter. Ben brings the mummies in from the coast and then operates the pulleys to bring it upstairs, where he could easily get it out. Simple, now that you know it’s there.”

  “Fred, I can’t thank you enough.”

  “Well, you seemed tipped off to the fact it had something to do with Ben before I could even fill you in on everything. You’re good at reading people, Fiona.”

  My mind flashed back to the eager look on Ben’s face when he asked if I’d be alone at the house. I’d noticed the slightest uptick in the corner of his mouth when I’d told him I’d be going to the market in the morning. From there, I’d been able to connect the fact that he had a key to the house before I’d even arrived—provided to him by my Aunt Mable. The final nail in the coffin, so to speak, was the fact that he’d been so adamant about calling Peter after our “discovery.” He’d probably figured the gig was up, and just wanted to “play along” in hopes of getting off scot-free. In fact, he’d even said he was going on the record for calling Peter after we’d found the first body. I might have been good at reading people, but Ben’s manipulation and sleight of hand had almost gone unnoticed.