by Sam Cheever
Caphy’s tongue swept out and bathed Mrs. Johnston’s thin wrist. The old woman chuckled. “Miss Caphy, you are such a sweet baby.” She looked at me. “Is it all right if I give her a cookie?”
I nodded. “She’d like that. As long as there’s no chocolate in it.”
Belle Johnston nodded, lifting a finger in my direction. “Thank you for reminding me. I’d almost forgotten about that. It’s been so long since the Mr. and I had a fur baby.”
I remembered a fat black Lab lumbering around the auction lot with Mr. Johnston. “Peanuts, right? She was a nice dog.”
Belle’s face filled with sweet remembrance. “Best dog we ever had. Unfortunately, we can’t keep them as long as we’d like.”
I sat at Belle’s shiny round wood table. It was formed from golden oak that matched the cabinets in the bright kitchen. “Have you ever considered getting another dog?” I asked.
She shook her head. “A thousand times. But we’re too old now. It wouldn’t be fair to the dog.”
How sad for them. “You could always make arrangements for family to take the dog if you…” I trailed off, realizing I should have kept my mouth shut. “If you should find yourself unable to care for it anymore.” Way to go, Joey, I chastised myself.
Belle took pity on me and smiled. “That is a thought, dear.” She poured me a tall glass of milk and set a plate filled with peanut butter cookies on the table. “No chocolate in these,” she said as she selected one from the plate and broke off a chunk. “Sit, girl.”
Caphy’s butt hit the ground so fast it smacked loudly against the tile.
Belle laughed. “Good, girl.” She offered the bite to Caphy, and my dog gently tugged it from her fingers.
“She’s very food motivated,” I explained as I stuffed a cookie into my mouth.
“It seems she’s not the only one,” Belle said on a chuckle.
Heat filled my face. As soon as I’d swallowed, I nodded. “I didn’t realize how hungry I was until I saw these. I still remember you bringing them to the Auction when I was a kid.”
“You do? Oh my. That was such a long time ago.” She shook her head, breaking off another piece of the cookie and offering it to Caphy.
My dog was putty in her hands, her gaze locked on the cookie and her body rigid with anticipation.
I watched Mrs. Johnston feed Caphy the rest of the cookie and then ventured into the reason I’d come. “I’m sure you heard about the real estate agent who was killed?”
Belle nodded. She allowed Caphy to lick the crumbs off her fingers and then straightened with a soft groan. She lifted her gaze to me, her blue eyes widening. “Oh. I just realized. She was killed on your property, wasn’t she?”
“Unfortunately, yes.”
Shaking her head, Belle went to wash her hands. She filled a metal teapot, settling it onto the center burner of her commercial-sized gas stove.
I totally lusted after that stove. Someday, I told myself, I’d get one of those. When I had enough people in my life to cook for.
That thought made me sad, so I shoved it away.
Belle glanced at me as she turned the fire up under the pot. “Terrible thing. I didn’t care for her at all, of course. Thought she was very pushy.” She frowned, tucking an errant gray-blonde curl behind one ear. “It’s unkind to speak ill of the dead.”
“I’m afraid there’s a lot of that going on where Penney Sellers is concerned. I met her myself, and I’d have to agree with your assessment. In fact, her being on my property when she died is proof of it. I’d rejected her offer just a couple of hours earlier. If she was back, it was because she was ignoring that rejection.”
“Edward told me she was murdered.”
Edward was Mr. Johnston, Belle’s husband. “That’s the consensus, yes.”
“How awful.” Belle leaned against the counter and hugged herself, shuddering slightly. “Still, I can’t imagine…” She slid a concerned gaze my way. “Did you find her?”
“Actually, Caphy found her. I just verified the finding.” My grimace at the memory was unintentional, but it was honest.
“This isn’t the first time for you, is it, dear?”
“No.” I settled the rest of my cookie onto the plate. I’d lost my appetite. “But it darn sure better be the last, or I’m going to put a fence around my whole property, with a sign that says, No Murders Allowed.”
Belle chuckled. “Well, I’m glad to see you’ve kept your sense of humor.”
Little did she know I wasn’t joking. Not about the fence part anyway. The influx of new people to Deer Hollow was becoming a deadly nuisance. “Can you tell me about her visit here?”
The teapot whistled. Belle pulled it off the burner and reached to an open shelf for a teacup. She lifted a brow to me. “Are you sure you won’t have some?”
“No. But thank you. I’m good with the milk.” I watched her fix her tea, adding honey to it and just a few drops of cream. It was the way my mom had always liked to drink her tea. That thought made my heart twist painfully. I couldn’t help wondering if her loss would ever get easier.
When Belle had settled herself across from me, reaching for one of her own cookies, I decided to give her a little nudge.
“When Ms. Sellers was here, did you speak to her? Or was it Edward?”
“It was Edward. I was at the grocery, unfortunately. If I’d been here, I’d have given her a piece of my mind.”
“What happened?”
Belle nibbled the edge of her cookie, her brows pinching together above it. “She waltzed right up to our door and all but demanded we sell the place.”
If I hadn’t met the pushy realtor, I’d have believed Belle was exaggerating. But since I had, I thought that probably came pretty close to the truth. “She wanted to list it herself?”
Belle shrugged. “I assume. To tell you the truth, the discussion never got that far. Edward told her very politely that we weren’t interested in selling.”
“Then what happened?”
“It was as if she didn’t even hear him. She shoved one of her cards at him and proceeded to say that we were doing our heirs a disservice by sitting on the house. That we were obviously too old to care for such a large house and property and that our heirs would much rather receive the money from the sale of the house than be saddled with all of this to manage and dispose of.” Tears filled her eyes, and I wanted to hit Penney Sellers over the head again because of it.
The Johnstons were kind people who only wanted their privacy and to be left alone to enjoy the little piece of heaven they’d worked hard all their lives to create.
Penney Sellers had been a monster.
“I’m so sorry you had to endure that.”
She sniffled, nodding. “Thank you, dear. But you have nothing to apologize for. That woman certainly does. I guess we’ll never get her apology now, though will we?”
“How is Edward? Was he very upset?” What I was really asking was if he was upset enough to kill Penney Sellers. But I couldn’t ask the question. Mostly because I didn’t believe it for a minute.
“He was angry. As angry as I’ve ever seen him.” She shook her head. “She attacked his pride. Insulted his abilities as a provider. She couldn’t have wounded him more if she’d stabbed him in the heart.”
“When did this happen?” I asked her, praying she’d tell me it had been last week.
“Yesterday. Around nine o’clock in the morning.” She shook her head. “Edward was so upset he climbed into the car and drove off. I didn’t see him until seven o’clock last night. But thank heavens he’d calmed down by then.”
“He left the house?” I asked, trying to keep my voice calm. Not an easy task since her words had made me see stars. Edward Johnston was unaccounted for during the time Penney Sellers was killed. According to his wife, he was definitely angry enough to do something he’d later regret. “Do you know where he went?”
“I don’t. He’s always done that, though. When he’s upset he just get
s into his car and drives. It soothes him. When we lost our sweet Peanuts, he drove all the way to Nashville before turning around and coming home.” She shook her head at the memory, a sad smile playing across her lips.
“Did he call you or anything while he was driving?” I was asking out of desperation. I needed something to use to cross him off the suspect list.
“I’m afraid not.” Her wistful gaze slid to me and sharpened. “And you’ll want to know where I was when that horrible woman was killed too, won’t you, dear?”
I blinked in surprise. She hadn’t been fooled for a minute by my attempt to get information without accusing them. I’d thought I’d been clever enough to fool her. But Belle Johnston had taught elementary school music for several decades. Of course, she was too sharp to be played. “I’m sorry.”
She fluttered her fingers. “Don’t be. I completely understand. If someone had been murdered here, I’d want to get to the bottom of it too. Unfortunately, I can’t help you. I was here, alone in the house, all day yesterday. I have no alibi. And I can assure you, when I heard how that terrible woman had insulted my sweet husband, I was angry enough to do her violence.”
I swallowed hard, my stomach twisting with nerves. “Did you?”
She sighed. “No. I didn’t kill her. But I won’t tell you I’m sorry someone else did.”
Chapter Eleven
Hal called me as I was heading home. “Hey,” I answered.
“What’s up? I saw you’d called a few times.”
“I just wanted to invite you to go with me to the Johnstons’.”
There was a beat of silence. “Please tell me you didn’t go there alone.”
“Hal, they’re almost eighty. I think I can handle them.”
He sighed. I pictured him rubbing his face in disgust. “Okay. Well, what did you find out?”
I gave him a quick rundown on my meeting with Mrs. Johnston. “I don’t like that neither of them has an alibi.”
“You think they might have killed her?”
I frowned, but only because, despite the ridiculousness of it, I couldn’t entirely discount the possibility. “I don’t know.”
“Okay, well, we’ll dig deeper on that in the morning.” He hesitated. “Would you like to come over for a while? I’ve got a great bottle of wine I’ve been dying for you to try.”
It was so tempting. But I wasn’t ready to pretend things were normal for us. “I can’t. I have the cat. She’s probably feeling lonely and scared right about now.”
“I’m pretty sure demons don’t get lonely.”
“Har. I’ll see you in the morning?”
“I’ll bring breakfast.”
“Night, Hal.”
“Night, Joey. I miss you.”
I hung up before I could give in to the sad note in his voice. I knew I was being hard on him. And with a little time and distance, I was starting to see that I’d overreacted to finding out about the cabin.
But I was having trouble seeing the path out of it. And I hadn’t been lying about the cat. I felt like I’d been neglecting her.
I pulled into my driveway, and Caphy jumped up from her spot in the center of the back seat. Her muscular tail smacked the seat a few times.
“We’re home, Caphy girl.”
She lunged between the front seats and swiped a wide, wet tongue over my cheek. I laughed, rubbing dog spit off my face with one arm.
I parked and she leaped out when I opened the door, hightailing it toward the pond, barking. I thought about calling her back, knowing she’d probably disturb the crime scene tape Arno’d left behind. Then I realized there was no way for him to control the scene. No doubt there’d been countless critters scampering along the grassy bank since he’d erected it.
He had what he needed from the scene anyway. He’d found the murder weapon, and they’d found no footprints in the hard earth of the bank. I’d overheard them talking about the lack of evidence when I’d been skulking on the porch like a piece of furniture, hoping they wouldn’t notice me and make me leave.
I opened the front door, leaving it slightly ajar for Caphy’s return. I’d check on the cat and sit with her for a while if she’d let me, then make Caphy and me some dinner. I’d take a long bath and make it an early night. I had a mystery from one of my favorite authors waiting for me in my room.
With that happy plan in place, I dropped my keys on a table in the foyer and trotted up the stairs to LaLee’s temporary digs. I listened at the door for a moment and didn’t hear anything. Then I realized that thinking I’d hear her was stupid. Unlike big, clumsy pit bulls who lumbered and danced through life, bouncing off everything they passed, cats never made any noise unless they were communicating.
I opened the door a crack, peeked through to the bed and kennel, and saw nothing. I pushed it wider, “LaLee…”
A slim, black and taupe blur shot past my feet and down the stairs, rocketing through the front door and outside before I could so much as yelp.
With a muttered expletive, I flew down the steps after her, calling her name even while I knew the feline would totally ignore me. She clearly hated me.
I shot outside, my feet pounding on the porch just as the blur tore around the side of the house and disappeared in the evergreens clustered ten feet away. I called Caphy and took off running after her.
It wasn’t until a minute later, when Caphy shot past me, head high and eyes bright with the thrill of the chase, that I realized my mistake. I probably shouldn’t have invited my dog to join the chase. The cat was more likely to run away from the exuberant pitty than she was from me. And if Caphy got too excited chasing LaLee, she might hurt the cat.
“Caphy, come!” At first, she ignored me. But when my command turned shrill, to her credit, she took pity on me and stopped, watching me run her way with her tongue lolling out the side of her mouth. “Good girl,” I told her as I loped up and scratched her between her droopy ears. “Heel.”
She fell in alongside me and, though I could tell it was killing her to regulate her speed to mine, stayed pretty much to heel as I’d commanded until we reached the big, overgrown field in the back twenty acres of my property.
My gaze automatically skimmed away from the long, narrow field where my parents had met their violent ends. I’d let the grass runway return to its wild state, allowing the stalks of milkweed and wide green blades of grass to cover the torn earth and pieces of refuse that were left behind when my dad’s beloved Cessna had hit a large rock that shouldn’t have been there and went tail over nose, crashing into pieces as it skidded slowly to a stop.
My traitorous brain recalled the horrible sight…a piece of wing…a chunk of fuselage…and the oily pools of fuel and oil that had leaked from the battered corpse of the small plane.
I shook my head to dispel the horror of that night, my nose twitching under the remembered stench of smoke and burning fuel.
Caphy was whining at the door to the big outbuilding where my dad had housed his plane. The hangar. She scratched at a small metal door, her tail drooping.
My Uncle Devon had hidden out in that building for a while, unable to put my parents’ deaths fully behind him and with some twisted sense of loyalty that included keeping a promise to my dad to watch out for me.
My eyes teared up as I remembered the last time I’d seen him, and my gaze slid to the distant tree line, where he’d stood not too far from the coyotes he’d befriended over the years.
I blinked, panic rising.
Coyotes! I had to find LaLee.
But even as I had the thought, I knew the chances of that were almost nil. If the cat didn’t want me to find her, I wouldn’t find her.
Angry tears slid from my eyes. I dropped down onto a stump and let them flow. How did I get myself into these things?
Caphy’s shrill voice filtered through my pity party and I looked over as she warbled hysterically, her paws digging frantically in the dirt in front of the door. She was going to rip a claw on the concrete if sh
e didn’t stop.
“Caphy! Stop that.”
A coyote yipped in the distance, followed almost immediately by a series of answering yips. Gooseflesh rose on my arms. It was the sound of a pack announcing prey. I took off running toward the sound, picking my way carefully through the overgrown field.
When I hit the other side, I ran along the tree line, calling the cat’s name in a shrill, desperate tone.
The yipping stopped and, as I pushed through the trees, I saw several of the beasts loping away from me, across the next field. My heart thudded as I spotted something furry hanging from one of their mouths.
“Oh no!” I wailed out. “LaLee!”
I dropped to my knees, despair tugging the starch from my legs. I sobbed loudly, feeling totally out of control. The cat had hated me. She’d been kind of a pain in the patooty. But she’d counted on me to keep her safe, and I’d failed.
A new wave of sobbing shook me, bowing my back. I thought I might just shrivel up on the ground and totally lose my mind.
What a horrible way to die…
“Yeow!”
I was so deep into my devastation it took my mind a second to wrap itself around what I’d heard.
“Yeow…” Something soft and warm touched my arm. I jumped, startling the blue-eyed cat sitting daintily beside me, her long tail tucked around her brown body.
“LaLee!”
She blinked at the shrieking quality of my voice, moving quickly to her feet and walking a few feet away. Her tail snapped with irritation. Her eyes narrowed on me as if she thought I’d lost my mind. “I can’t believe you’re alive,” I told her, fighting to regain control of my emotions.
The grass beyond the trees thrashed violently, and I started. Caphy!
LaLee’s head snapped around and she tensed, her body rigid and a low growl rumbling from her narrow brown chest.
I shoved slowly to my feet, cognizant of the need not to spook the cat. “Caphy, girl,” I said softly walking toward the thrashing sound in the hopes of grabbing my dog before she saw LaLee.