by Cindy Stark
A short, stout woman wearing a pink cotton dress followed, holding a fresh blueberry pie that left Hazel’s knees weak. Silver strands shot through the woman’s dark hair and her brown eyes shimmered with kindness.
Hazel liked her immediately.
Madeline set the salad on the table and smiled at them. “Right on time. Hazel, I’d like you to meet Tracy, one of my dearest friends.”
Tracy snorted but smiled. “What a load of cobblers. She only says that because I keep her toilet clean.” The woman’s English accent was a surprise and only added to the hilarity of her words.
Madeline gasped in mock outrage, while Hazel and Peter chuckled. Tracy set the pie on the table, wiped her hands on the white apron she wore around her waist, and then properly hugged Peter. “Good to see you, young man.”
He returned the greeting and then placed a kiss on her weathered cheek.
She pulled back, her cheeks a furious pink and waved him away with her hand. “Oh, you. Always the charmer.”
Tracy turned to Hazel. “You must be Miss Hazel, the new missus.”
Tracy’s words reminded Hazel that Peter had been married once before, to a woman who’d tricked him into loving her, but who had also been murdered because of her witch heritage. The memory cooled her blood. “Hello, Tracy. It’s very nice to meet you.”
Hazel held out a hand to shake, but Tracy bypassed that and went straight for a hug. Love and acceptance infused Hazel, warming her from the inside out.
“I’ll not have us acting like anything but family, you hear?” the older woman said.
Hazel grinned and nodded. “I’d be honored to be considered part of your family.”
Madeline scoffed. “Of course, you’re part of the tribe. I’m just sorry I couldn’t attend the wedding. If you’d given me more notice…”
“Sorry, Aunt Madeline,” Peter responded. “It was one of those spur of the moment things. I couldn’t wait to call her mine.”
Everyone laughed, and the heat of embarrassment crept up Hazel’s cheeks.
Tracy turned toward the table and slid out a chair. “Enough of this. Let’s eat before my chowder gets cold.”
They all took a seat, and then one by one, they held out their bowls for Tracy to fill. Hazel took a large sniff of the contents in hers before setting it on the table. “This smells incredible.”
Peter agreed with a nod. “Wait until you taste it.”
Hazel filled her spoon and then experienced nirvana. Dang, if Tracy’s clam chowder wasn’t the best she’d ever had. If anything, this was why Madeline called Tracy her best friend.
Hazel had swallowed her second bite before she realized Peter’s aunt wasn’t eating. She caught Madeline’s gaze and tilted her head. “Is everything okay?”
Madeline’s expression fell, and the turbulence Hazel had sensed earlier exploded. “No, actually it’s not.”
“Madeline,” Tracy warned.
Madeline blinked furiously and then exhaled a deep breath. “I’m fine. Everything is fine. Please eat. We can talk later.”
She lifted her water glass and took a drink as though that would stop all conversation on the topic.
Peter studied his aunt for a moment and then lifted another spoonful to his mouth.
Madeline’s hand shook as she set her glass down on the table. “I’m sorry. I…I’ve been accused of murder.”
Peter choked on his chowder, and Hazel dropped her spoon into her bowl.
“Madeline,” Tracy chastised in an irritated tone. “I thought we’d agreed to wait until after lunch.”
Peter grabbed a glass of water and took several large swallows, keeping his gaze on his aunt the entire time. He worked to clear his throat and finally managed to speak. “What?”
Hazel reached over, covered his hand, and then turned to Madeline. “That’s quite the bombshell. Please tell us more.”
Tracy sighed in disgust. “Way to throw a spanner in the works, Maddie. I, for one, am not going to let my chowder grow cold. I didn’t work all morning to prepare this lovely meal, only to have it go to waste.”
Hazel flashed Tracy a quick look, comforted by the fact that Madeline’s friend wasn’t too concerned. It may not be as serious as Madeline made it seem.
She hoped.
Madeline sent Tracy an apologetic look. “I’m so sorry, Tracy. I just…my heart was pounding so fast, and I feared if I didn’t get it out, I’d have a heart attack right here, and that would have ruined your chowder even more so.”
Tracy filled her spoon and ate a bite. Then she focused on Hazel and Peter. “She hasn’t been accused of murder, you see. She’s only been questioned, and that’s only because she was the last person to see Olive Beauregard alive.”
Peter met Hazel’s gaze. She sensed his uncertainty regarding the news, too. She gave a small shrug in response.
He turned to his aunt. “You haven’t been arrested, have you?”
“No,” Tracy answered under her breath.
Madeline shot her an exasperated look. “I have not, but it’s enough that people in town are speculating. It’s ruined my good name.”
Tracy scoffed. “She’s more worried about her reputation than going to jail.”
Hazel glanced back and forth between the two women, trying to weigh the severity of Madeline’s claim. She didn’t want to discount the situation. Obviously, someone had lost a life. But these two seemed more like an old married couple arguing over a trifle matter, so perhaps it wasn’t as serious as she’d first thought.
Peter nodded several times and then lifted his spoon. “Okay. How about you tell us what happened while we eat? Then Tracy’s hard work wasn’t for nothing, and maybe now that Hazel and I know your circumstances, you can relax and give us the complete version. Brains work better on a full stomach.”
Madeline exhaled and gave a weak smile. “Okay. You’re right. Clearer heads always prevail.”
Hazel relaxed her shoulders. Crisis averted. Peter always knew the right thing to say.
Madeline opened her mouth to speak and then shook her head. “I don’t know where to start.”
Tracy lifted a hand. “Let me.”
When the housekeeper had everyone’s attention, she released a deep breath. “Olive, the poor unfortunate soul who no one liked anyway, was poisoned to death. The police aren’t saying much, but it’s not hard to speculate what happened. Someone spiked her morning coffee. The gals in Olive’s office said her face was smashed into the keyboard when they found her. A half-finished coffee rested near her hand.”
Tracy shrugged. “Sounds like poisoning to me. And no one is really going to miss her, so case closed.”
Peter narrowed his eyes and grinned at Tracy. “No case is ever that cut and dry. Despite people not liking her, the police must investigate. It’s still a crime.”
Tracy reached for a cornbread muffin and broke it open. “Well I say, no reason to complicate matters. No one liked her. Someone had the guts to do something about it. The world is a better place.”
Hazel withheld a chuckle. The woman certainly had a way of summing things up. Hazel turned to Madeline. “How are you involved in all this?”
Her face turned ashen. “I’m the one who gave her the coffee.”
Four
What Hazel had expected to be a pleasant lunch exploded into chaos. Previously tense emotions from the group morphed into gaping mouths of alarm.
Peter widened his eyes in response to Madeline’s news and set down his spoon. “You gave her the coffee? Oh, man. That’s not good.”
He scrubbed his chin while shaking his head and then focused on his aunt. “I’d suggest calling your lawyer and getting her on board just in case.”
Madeline inhaled a shaky breath. “Oh, Lord.”
“She didn’t do it,” Tracy emphasized.
Peter tipped his head toward Tracy in acknowledgement. “Doesn’t mean she shouldn’t do everything she can to protect herself. There are plenty of innocent people in jail.”
Ma
deline sucked in a desperate breath, and her skin paled. “What?”
The news had shaken Peter more than Hazel had realized. Otherwise, he never would have said such a thing and frightened his aunt in that way.
Hazel lifted a hand, hoping to bring some peace to the table. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Of course, we don’t believe she did any such thing. I barely know you, Madeline, but anyone can see you’re a kind soul and not capable of a heinous crime.”
“The kindest,” Peter agreed.
Madeline took shallow breaths. “That may not be enough to keep me out of jail.”
Peter took his aunt’s hand and squeezed. “No one here is going to let that happen.”
Hazel relaxed minutely. At last, he’d found his senses.
“But being a suspect is nothing to trifle with,” he continued. “Is Gerald still the chief in this town?”
Madeline and Tracy both nodded.
Peter grunted in approval. “Good. Why don’t you give me the details on what happened, Aunt Madeline? Tomorrow, when he’s in his office, I’ll pay him a visit, see what’s going on. I might be able to help.”
Relief spilled over Madeline’s face and tugged at Hazel’s heart.
“Oh, Peter,” his aunt said. “How can I thank you? I didn’t mean to lie about why I’d invited you here. I truly do want the two of you to enjoy some honeymoon time, but if you could help me out, I…”
Peter gave her a kind smile and shook his head. “You know I’d do anything for you. You didn’t have to offer a honeymoon to get me to come.”
Madeline dabbed at the tears hovering in the corners of her eyes. “I know. But it seemed like a good idea at the time.”
“Told you,” Tracy mumbled.
Peter glanced about the room. “Do you have a notebook I could use?”
Tracy jumped to her feet. “I’ve got one in the kitchen.”
She hurried off, and Peter snuck a hefty bite of chowder.
When Tracy returned, he took the small notebook and pen that she offered and turned to his aunt. “Why don’t you start at the beginning?”
Madeline took a sip of water before she outlined the morning leading up to Olive Beauregard’s death. “It all started when I was out for breakfast and sat next to Spencer Evans. The place was crowded and why not have company? He is…was Olive’s boyfriend.”
She rattled through the rest of the events about how Olive’s sister wanted to surprise her sister with a mug, that she’d asked Spencer to deliver it, who’d then decided to fill it with coffee, and ultimately Madeline came to be the one to deliver the ill-fated drink. She finished with a shuddering breath. “She was alive and well when I left. I swear she was.”
Peter considered his aunt thoughtfully. “Did she drink any of the coffee while you were there?”
Madeline thought for a moment and then shrugged. “I don’t know. I can’t remember. It seemed like such a mundane thing at the time.”
“Did you often take her coffee?” he asked.
She shook her head. “That was the first. We’re not exactly friends.”
Madeline’s statement bothered Hazel. “Not friends. Does that mean enemies?”
Peter’s aunt lifted a shoulder and let it drop. “I wouldn’t say enemies, but if she fell off the face of the earth, I wouldn’t care. Also, she liked to tell everyone I was trying to steal her boyfriend, which isn’t remotely true.”
Tracy snorted. “She did fall off the face of the earth, Maddie.”
Peter sighed in exasperation. “Please tell me you didn’t say that to the police.”
Madeline shook her head. “Didn’t have to. Everyone knows how we feel about each other. She also thinks—thought I was always trying to steal her stupid stories or get the scoop before everyone else just because I once worked at the paper. Truth be told, I found her writing subpar and her stories bland.”
He tapped the pen on the notebook and studied his aunt. “How long after you left did her officemates find her?”
Again, she shrugged. “It’s all a blur to me. I dropped off a container of coffee. Olive spit out her usual slew of venomous words, and I left. It wasn’t like I was watching the clock because I thought it was a momentous occasion.”
Peter shifted his gaze to Hazel. “Technically, someone could have slipped something in the coffee later on, too.”
Hazel agreed with a nod. “Very true.”
Madeline sniffed. “Different people around town have speculated all kinds of things, but I really don’t know anything more than what I’ve told you. You should ask Gerald. He and his officers have been investigating non-stop.”
He nodded. “I will.”
“Madeline,” Hazel said, drawing the attention away from Peter. She was more interested in the woman’s innate perceptions. “Who do you think would want to kill Olive?”
Peter’s aunt snorted. “Practically everyone in town. She wasn’t a nice person.”
Peter tilted his head. “Everyone?”
Tracy nodded in agreement. “Bob’s your uncle.”
“Excuse me? Who’s Bob?” Hazel asked, growing more confused.
Madeline flicked her hand. “It’s just an expression. It means I’m right about Olive. There is no Bob.”
Peter took another bite of chowder and nodded thoughtfully while he chewed. “It’s always best not to jump to conclusions on suspects anyway. Not until all the facts are in. Let me talk to Gerald.”
Hazel stared in the direction of the gorgeous antique grandfather clock, letting what she’d learned so far sink into her brain. She was about to speak when she caught sight of Mr. Kitty’s orange-furred rear end and curled tailed as he swaggered down the hall.
She gasped.
Everyone turned to look at her, and heat climbed her cheeks.
Peter narrowed his gaze. “Are you okay, Hazel?”
She nodded quickly and scrambled for an excuse. “I was just thinking…”
Madeline lifted her brows, urging Hazel to continue.
Hazel turned to Peter still frantically searching for a way to explain her behavior. “We should investigate her boyfriend.”
He frowned in confusion. “Yes, of course. That’s pretty much a given.”
Hazel turned toward Madeline with a smile, knowing her idea of investigating Spencer wasn’t gasp worthy, but it was all she had.
His aunt returned the gesture and then shifted her gaze to Tracy.
Tracy shrugged, and Hazel knew they both wondered if she was daft in the head.
Not that she was happy about that, but she had a more pressing issue. She shot a furtive glance at the hall. The ginger rascal had disappeared.
Why was he inside the big house in the first place? Could Madeline have decided to allow him to stay?
“I’ll do anything to put an end to this travesty,” Madeline said, and Hazel was forced to return to the conversation at hand.
Then Mr. Kitty sauntered past again, as though taunting her, and Hazel swallowed hard so that she didn’t outwardly react again. “I want to hear more about Olive’s boyfriend. Spencer?”
“Spencer Evans,” Tracy responded. “He has a souvenir shop in the village. Tourists love the knickknacks and can’t get enough of the cute silver or rose gold necklaces with crystals or lobster and seashell charms. People can’t find them anywhere else because his brother’s company custom creates them.”
Hazel was interested in seeing exactly how cute they were. Plus, it would give her a chance to meet the grieving boyfriend and get her own take on him.
Madeline shook her head and dabbed at fresh tears. “Poor Spencer. I could never understand what he saw in Olive, but he loved her.”
Tracy sighed in disgust and pulled another cornbread muffin from the basket. “I say bullet dodged. He should consider himself lucky.”
Peter’s aunt scowled at her friend. “How can you be so cold-hearted?”
“I’m not cold-hearted,” Tracy countered. “Realistic is more like it. The man had a
sked her to marry him countless times, and she always shoved it in his face, yet somehow managed to keep him on the line. Give him a month or two, and he’ll realize God did him a service.”
Madeline pushed back from the table and stood. Stress and grief colored her expression. “I’m so sorry, everyone. I can’t eat. The smell of food is making me nauseous, and I need to lie down.”
Hazel glanced toward the hall and found it thankfully empty.
Peter stood, too. “Is there anything I can get for you?”
The older woman shook her head. “No. I just need a little time to compose myself. Please carry on without me. Let’s plan on dinner instead.”
Tracy slid her chair back. “I’m done, too, and think I’ll have a lie-down myself.”
The housekeeper turned to Hazel and Peter. “You two stay as long as you like. Somebody needs to enjoy my chowder. I’ll clean up the mess later.”
Hazel remained silent while the two ladies walked out together. The second they were out of earshot, she grabbed Peter’s arm.
“What is it?”
“Mr. Kitty,” she said in a frantic whisper. “He’s in the house.”
Peter closed his eyes and shook his head in disbelief.
“We have to do something,” Hazel insisted. “We can’t let him run around. What if someone calls animal control to try to help him find his family?”
Peter chuckled. “First of all, good luck to whichever animal control officer tries to catch him, and second, if Mr. Kitty has to spend a night in kitty jail, maybe he’ll think twice before misbehaving again.”
Hazel snorted. “We both know that’s not true. He’d probably break out, and then he’d be a wanted criminal. Or worse, your aunt will somehow learn he’s my familiar.”
She knew she verged on the point of being ridiculous, but she needed to find her kitty and get him under control. “We have to search the house.”
Five
Peter wasn’t keen on the idea of searching the house, but Hazel insisted. “We can’t let Mr. Kitty have the run of the place. It’s only a matter of time before your aunt is going to wonder how he gets in and out of the house without assistance. Then somehow, she’ll link him to me, and that would be a disaster. We have to stop him now.”