Purrfect Murder

by Louise Lynn

  Esther grinned. “Anything for you, Hazy.”

  Before Hazel even had a chance to respond, she heard a commotion outside. Only this one wasn’t focused in the backyard but to the front.

  “Mom’s here,” she said with a sigh, and headed to the front door.

  Sure enough, their mother climbed out of her car, an oversized paper bag bundled in her arms, with some other questionable items stacked on top. The deputy standing duty wandered up to have a word with her, and their mom waved her hand in his face and started trotting toward the front door.

  Hazel stepped out before things could escalate further. “It’s okay. It’s just my mom.”

  The deputy was new to town, just like Cross, though he looked several years younger than the sheriff. “I didn’t know you were going to invite the whole town,” he grumbled.

  Was it a new requirement that all local law enforcement be snarky and rude?

  But Hazel didn’t have to say anything. Her mom pinned the young man with a sharp glare that radiated behind her wireframe glasses. The flurries of snow blew her hair about, like it was on fire. “Two people is hardly the whole town, young man. And I don’t think anything has happened inside my daughter’s house, so is it a crime to visit?”

  “Uh, no ma’am, but I was told to keep nonessentials away.”

  “Well, I think it’s quite essential that I visit my daughter in her time of need. Not only did your sheriff close down her means of making a living due to an unfortunate crime that took place there, but now you’re going to prevent me from seeing her?”

  The deputy’s cheeks flushed. “Course not, ma’am. Go right ahead.”

  A sweet smile spread over her mom’s lips, and she dipped her hand into the bag and pulled out two oranges. “Here you go. Thank you for letting me in. But ease up on the ma’am. Makes me feel ancient,” she said, and bustled inside.

  Hazel closed the door behind her and took the bag. It was probably a good ten pounds. Esther wasn’t kidding about needing to eat them quick.

  The smell of buttermilk pancakes filled the cabin, and she followed her mother into the kitchen. A small stack already sat on a warming plate, and her mother set about washing her hands and setting the table.

  Hazel found a place for the sack of oranges and ignored the other box her mother had brought. Black and oblong and far too familiar for her to feel comfortable with.

  “Oh, I do love it when Hazel invites us over for breakfast. Even if you are the one who cooks, Essie. And despite there was another drowned body outside,” she said as if it were a matter of course. Though she did add a heavy sigh at the end.

  Hazel took a long swallow of her coffee and poured some more. She needed to make another pot with the two of them over, so she did just that.

  Then something her mother said struck her.

  “Wait. What do you mean by another body? Simone Wilkins is the only one out there. That I know of,” she said, and peeked out back.

  She didn’t know if they’d removed the body yet, and she honestly didn’t want to see it again. Not after how Simone had been acting the day before. Scared and evasive.

  “Mom,” Esther said in a warning tone as she set the pile of pancakes in the middle of the table.

  Their mother set the strawberries next to it and shoved a serving spoon into the bowl with them.

  The bile churned in Hazel’s gut again. But she forced it away. She wasn’t going to ruin all Esther’s hard work to fix her breakfast, and not have a bite to eat. Plus, if she didn’t eat now, she’d just end up doubly hungry later.

  Their mom huffed as she sat. “It’s not as if she won’t find out later. So, there’s no point keeping it from her.”

  “I never said to keep anything from her, but you don’t have to go on with your weird conspiracy theories when we’re trying to eat breakfast,” Esther grumbled, and plopped two pancakes on each of their plates. A healthy dollop of strawberries and syrup followed.

  Hazel forced herself to take a bite before she asked the question. And, momentarily, the fluffy texture of the pancake mixed with the sweet and tart taste of strawberries soaking in their own syrup made her forget her worries. Then she noticed the look on Esther’s face and it all came crashing back down. “What’s going on?”

  Their mom got her hands on the whipped cream first and squirted a mound on top of her strawberries before she answered. “I don’t think it’s a coincidence that the young woman washed up here, for one.”

  Esther scowled at her own food and stabbed her pancakes with her fork. “It could just be the way the current runs, you know? Lakes have things like that. And there are places on Lake Celeste where you’re more likely to find a body if someone drowned than other places.”

  “Who else washed up on my beach?” Hazel said, trying to remember another instance. But, since she’d bought the place and moved in, there wasn’t any she could recall.

  That didn’t mean someone hadn’t washed up on the shore before she moved here, though. The cabin was only ten years old. New by Cedar Valley standards.

  “Sara Barkley, dear. That’s why I brought the spirit board. It’s not an accident that both Sara and this Simone woman washed up on the same beach. It means something.” She dug into her food as if talking about two drowned women didn’t do anything to ruin her appetite.

  Hazel sighed and followed suit.

  For once, she agreed with her mother. It couldn’t be a coincidence if both Sara and Simone washed up on the same beach—but she doubted they were thinking of coincidence in the same way.

  At least she didn’t bring up anything else during the rest of breakfast.

  Esther, wisely, tugged the conversation in a different direction. She mentioned the play that Ruth’s fourth-grade class was going to be putting on, and how put out Ruth was that she didn’t get the lead.

  “A tree,” their mom said, and dabbed her lips after her last bite of pancake. “My granddaughter playing a tree? I should have a talk with that music teacher, Mrs. Martin. Oh, I remember her. She had it out for both of you girls too. I think she’s jealous of me, honestly.”

  Hazel couldn’t help the chuckle that rose to her throat. “Jealous? Why?”

  “Well, she hates independent thinking. Don’t you remember when you were in her class, Hazel? She marked you down on all those cute little songs you wrote just because they were full of imagination. And she refused to let Esther bring anything to the bake sale that I hadn’t made, because she didn’t think children could cook! She’s an old stooge of a woman, and I won’t have her ruining another generation while I’m around to stop it.”

  Esther smiled and patted their mom on the shoulder. “I don’t think you talking to her can fix anything. She’ll probably demote Ruth to a bush.”

  Hazel nodded her agreement. “Or she’ll kick her out of the play entirely.”

  Anthony Ray had wandered up during the meal, probably because of the whipped cream, and made himself a bed in her lap. She’d given him a dollop on his nose, which he’d gratefully licked clean before falling asleep. He barely even glanced up when a loud knock sounded at the front door.

  Hazel jumped, but her mother put her hand on Hazel’s shoulder and squeezed. “I’ll get it. It’s about time I laid eyes on this new sheriff.”

  “Oh no. This is my worst nightmare coming true,” Hazel said, and drained the rest of her coffee.

  Esther grinned and refilled it, even throwing in another splash of half-and-half. “My worst nightmare is her bringing the spirit board into the middle of the bakery on a Sunday. All the nice church people buying their cupcakes, and mom trying to commune with the dead,” she said, and shook her head. An exaggerated shiver ran through her body.

  Hazel tried to fight back a snort of laughter but didn’t manage it.

  Their mother’s voice rang from the entryway. “The new sheriff, I presume? I finally get to lay eyes on you. I’m Maureen Hart, Hazel and Esther’s mother. I run a shop right on the corner of Lake Street. You may
have seen it.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, is Hazel here? I need to speak with her,” Sheriff Cross said in his deep voice.

  Esther raised a brow, and Hazel threw her napkin at her sister. Sure, he sounded handsome. And looked it. But the attitude ruined everything.

  “I’m sure you do, but you can spare a moment to speak with me, I’m sure. After all, I heard you were quite taken with one of my knitted creations. A little mustard number that I gave my lovely daughter Hazel for Christmas two years back? Well, as it is only fitting to welcome you to our lovely little community, I can make you one as well, sheriff. Let’s see, with your coloring, dark hair—is it black or brown? It’s nearly impossible to tell. And those eyes, my! The same color as the deepest part of Lake Celeste. Striking. Well, I think you’re probably a winter, color-scheme wise. Which means you look best in jewel tones. I have plenty of those. Royal blue. A deep emerald green would match your uniform nicely, but—no. I think a royal purple would suit you best. Yes. And I will make sure it has a delightful pom-pom right on top, just for you dear,” she said, and they entered the open kitchen area.

  Both Hazel and Esther stared at their mother and the sheriff, mouth dropped open.

  Sheriff Cross had a similar shocked expression on his face, and it wasn’t even immediately replaced by a scowl. “That would be very kind of you, Mrs. Hart. But purple—”

  Their mother waved her hands at him, a habit that Ruth had picked up from her, no doubt. “Oh, it’s no trouble. And purple is a royal color, you know. It means kingliness, which suits the new sheriff in town,” she said, and gave Hazel a wink.

  “Oh yes, purple really would suit you well.” Hazel gave him the sweetest smile she could manage. “How can I help you today?”

  Sheriff Cross nodded stiffly and his eyes wandered around her cabin. “Nice place you’ve got here. Bigger than mine,” he said, and cast Esther and their mom a look that told Hazel he wanted to speak with her alone.

  Well, she wasn’t going to kick her mom and sister out just to have a word with him. So, she walked over to the closet, shrugged on her heaviest coat and slipped her feet in the snow boots. “We can talk in private outside. Or the laundry room. That’ll be warmer.”

  The sheriff gave her a tight smile. Hazel wondered if his smirk had gotten lost somewhere between last night and this morning. “Outside is fine.”

  Once they were out on the porch, which was thankfully covered and kept off some of the wind, the sheriff’s eyes wandered around the side of the house. “Simone was nearly frozen. Makes me think she’d been in there for hours.”

  Hazel swallowed a heavy lump in her throat. “Why are you telling me this?”

  Sheriff Cross shook his head and let out a breath. It fogged in the freezing air around them. “Just to let you know there wasn’t anything you could have done to help her. But, it’s good you found her when you did. If she’d been frozen under the lake all winter—” He shook his head.

  They wouldn’t have had this new break in the case, she guessed.

  “What about the black hoodie?”

  The sheriff met her eyes then, and shoved his gloved hands into his coat pockets.

  Hazel hadn’t thought to put on gloves, so her hands were already deep inside the downy pockets, trying to keep warm in the cold, biting air. “We’re going to examine it, and ignore the fact that it has cat hair and slobber on it.”

  Hazel chewed on her bottom lip. “Sorry about that. Anthony Ray has a thing with fabric. What about the hair on it?”

  “Hair?” The sheriff let out another breath. This one verged more on annoyed. “I didn’t notice any hairs right off the bat, but if there were, we’ll find them. I hope.”

  Hazel sucked in a breath, and it felt cold enough to freeze her lungs. Maybe they should have had this conversation in the laundry room. Too late to change her mind now. “They were blonde. And, I think that jacket belonged to someone who was here the day Dirk died.”

  Sheriff Cross stared at her. “What? Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?”

  Hazel shook her head. “I didn’t know it was important earlier. But now, with Simone washing up on this beach, the same beach where Sara Barkley washed up? I don’t think it’s a coincidence.” Then she told Sheriff Cross about the black figure wandering near the lake the morning Dirk had been shot in her studio.

  As she did, another memory snapped into place. That dark figure was also down by the beach when she’d taken the engagement photos. The way Simone had acted when she jumped off Dirk’s lap had been markedly similar to how she reacted the night before when she ran.

  As if she saw someone she didn’t expect to see. Someone who frightened her enough to run, then argue with Dirk about it in the studio.

  Her gut clenched.

  Someone Simone knew was dead.

  “You said you have pictures of this?”

  Hazel nodded. “In my studio. But we’re not allowed in because of the crime scene,” she said, and met his eyes. Her mother was right. They were the same color as the deepest parts of Lake Celeste, and that realization gave her a tingly feeling in her chest.

  “I’ll need to see those. Along with the other photos from the engagement shoot.”

  “You already have copies,” she reminded him.

  A slight flush rose to his cheeks. “I know. But I’d like to see them back to back. Compare them. Can we go now or is your family gonna want to tag along?”

  Hazel snorted. “If I told them about it, they’d definitely want to tag along.”

  As they walked back inside, her mom and Esther stood dangerously near the entryway, at the living room couch. They both fawned over Anthony Ray as he rolled on his back and let them rub his belly.

  “Oh, you look absolutely frozen, Sheriff. Why don’t I get you a nice hot cup of coffee, and tell you exactly who killed Dirk and Simone,” their mom said with a wide grin.

  “What?” Sheriff Cross snapped his eyes toward Hazel. “She knows who did it and you kept it from me?”

  Hazel looked at her sister, who shook her head slowly. She was right. There was no way to avoid this. But the sooner they got it over with, the better.

  “You’ll have to judge for yourself,” Hazel said, and ushered Sheriff Cross into the kitchen.

  He took the coffee without question, and sipped it black. Though his eyes stayed fixed on their mother as she bustled around putting the breakfast dishes in the dishwasher. “Well? Who killed them?”

  Their mother threw him her sunniest smile. “Oh, that’s easy. Sara Barkley did, dear.”

  As if on cue, both Hazel and Esther groaned.

  The sheriff looked between all three of them. “Sara Barkley died two years ago.”

  “Her ghost did it. And, I brought my spirit board just for this occasion. You see, we’ll contact the ghost of Sara Barkley and ask her why she’s killing them. I think it’s because one of them murdered her on that boat two years ago, and they all covered it up. It’s the only thing that makes any sense,” her mother said, and went back to the dishes.

  Hazel stared at her socked feet for a long moment before she let herself meet Sheriff Cross’s eyes. If he thought she was ridiculous and shouldn’t be involved in this investigation, now he probably believed it a hundred times stronger.

  Finally, she glanced at him. He leaned against the counter and drained his mug of coffee. “Ms. Hart, I owe you an apology.”

  Hazel blinked. “What? Why?”

  Well, she could think of plenty of reasons why, but she wasn’t going to be petty in a moment like this.

  “Because I thought your ideas were insane. But I know now they’re not as insane as they could be.”

  She glowered at him, snatched her purse and marched toward the door. “If you want to see those photos, come with me right now. Mom, Esther, if you guys leave before I’m back just lock up. You have a spare key, right?”

  Esther nodded, her lips pinched into a thin line that meant she was trying to keep from laughi
ng.

  “What about the spirit board? Will you be back to try it later?”

  “I think he’s too busy for that, Mom,” Hazel said, and shut the door after they stepped outside.

  Something nagged at the back of her mind. That picture she saw of Sara Barkley the day she’d died. It sparked a memory she couldn’t place yet.

  But she knew she’d have to look at it again.

  Sara Barkley’s ghost obviously didn’t kill Dirk and Simone, but Hazel had little doubt whoever had done it was connected to Sara’s death as well.

  However, with Simone dead, she didn’t have any idea how.

  Chapter 13

  Hazel opted to follow Sheriff Cross’s SUV in her own truck, mostly so she didn’t have to be alone with him in a vehicle for ten minutes. But also, she didn’t have to rely on him to drive her back home when they were finished.

  When she saw the crime scene tape against her studio’s door, a sharp pain hit her in the chest. At least the weather was bad enough that no more tourists roamed the street. The snow kept most of them at bay.

  Thank goodness.

  She wondered how quickly the word of Simone’s death would spread through Cedar Valley. Since she didn’t have many nearby neighbors, no one had seen the commotion at the lake. Though, that didn’t mean much since her mom had the information.

  She’d call all her friends in town before Hazel even got back to the house.

  Sheriff Cross ducked under the crime scene tape after Hazel unlocked the door, and they both stepped inside. It was chilly, but not freezing since she had set the heater to come on at about fifty degrees to keep the pipes from freezing. She turned the thermostat to seventy degrees and peeled off her gloves.

  As she powered up the computer and found the pictures with the dark figure, Sheriff Cross wandered into her display studio.

  She couldn’t really blame him. Sitting at the desk was colder than walking around.

  “I’m ready,” she said, and popped her head in the room.

  He stood looking at one of the largest prints, a landscape taken right at sunset with the golden light shining across the luminous blue water of the lake. The shore was dotted with round boulders, and a cougar had gone down to the edge to drink.