by Cindy Stark
Peter hesitated and then nodded. “You’re right. As much as I love my aunt, I don’t think she’ll understand a cat with special powers.”
Which also meant that she wouldn’t likely understand Hazel’s gifts, either. “I’d say we should split up, but I might get lost. This place is huge.”
Peter held out a hand to her. “I know all the hiding spots. Come on. Let’s get this done. Then maybe we can start a relaxing honeymoon. At least as much as we can with my aunt being a murder suspect.”
Hazel exhaled deeply. “I can’t even imagine how you must feel right now.”
He shook his head in bewilderment. “It’s insane. She couldn’t have done it, and it’s awful that she’s mixed up in it. The sooner we can get her off the hook, the better for all of us.”
Hazel sent him a hopeful smile. “I don’t suppose we could have this wrapped up by tomorrow morning.”
He snorted. “Not likely. Now, tell me which direction that darned cat was headed when you last saw him.”
They left the dining room and inspected the piano room first, looking under every piece of furniture. Hazel even checked behind closed doors. She didn’t know if Mr. Kitty could flatten himself so small that he fit under anything or if he had the capability of walking through walls. She highly doubted the latter, but he got into places somehow.
It took a good ten minutes to search the first floor, and no sign of Mr. Kitty.
Peter paused at the bottom of the staircase. “We’ll need to be extra quiet upstairs. This old house creaks a lot, and I don’t want to disturb my aunt or Tracy.”
She nodded. “Right. Me, either.”
How would they explain their presence?
Together, they crept up the staircase, and Hazel winced every time the old steps groaned. Even her ancient house wasn’t this bad.
Peter and she made their way through the empty rooms where no one currently slept. Hazel found it different walking through the house this time. Going slower, without Madeline in attendance, she was able to see more than she had before.
Peter nudged her and grinned as he opened a door. “This was my room,” he whispered.
Hazel stepped inside and was surprised she hadn’t caught the vibes before when they’d walked down the hall. She smiled. “Yes, I still sense you here.”
He grinned. “Do you?”
She allowed the joyful vibes to sink in. “You were very happy here.”
He closed the door behind them, shutting them inside. “I was. Coming here every summer was the best part of my childhood. I could walk to the ocean, fish all I wanted, play hide and seek in the trees along the property. It was the best.”
She was glad that he’d had those experiences to counter the ones with his parents. “It’s obvious your aunt still adores you.”
He chuckled. “Yeah. It’s funny because my parents always thought they were ditching me to some miserable existence. Sometimes, I even went so far as to complain about having to come here. That seemed to make them happier.”
His words hurt her heart, and she frowned. “I’m sad that you didn’t have better parents.”
He snorted. “Not like yours were any better. At least not your mom.”
Hazel rolled her eyes. “My mother is a freak. I would say she should never have had kids, but then I wouldn’t be here.”
Peter placed a kiss on her forehead. “True, and I’m so glad you are.”
He left her to peek beneath the bed, and she headed toward the closet and opened it. Her brows shot upward. “Peter,” she said in a loud whisper.
He got to his feet. “Did you find him?”
“No,” she said with a laugh. “But I think I found some things that might belong to you. Unless someone else used this space.”
He sent her a quizzical grin and strode forward. “No. My cousin Travis spent many summers here, too, but he had his own room.”
Peter leaned over her shoulder, and a sense of happiness from him washed over her. “I can’t believe she kept all this stuff. Whenever I’ve been here, I never looked.”
He pulled an old baseball glove from the top shelf. “This is awesome. Let’s come back after dinner tonight when we won’t wake anybody.”
Peter put the glove back inside and closed the door. “We have other work right now.”
They left Peter’s room, and just as they did, Hazel caught sight of Mr. Kitty strolling down the hall, away from them. “There,” she whispered and pointed.
Peter took off after him, and Hazel followed directly behind.
Mr. Kitty dashed into a nearby room.
Peter exhaled his frustration and caught Hazel’s arm. He pointed toward the door across the hall. “Madeline,” he mouthed.
She nodded that she understood they needed to be extra quiet and entered the room to look for her cat. At first glance, she could see nothing. She motioned for Peter to check the closet, and she crouched down to look under the bed.
Mischievous green eyes stared back from the far corner, far out of reaching distance. “He’s here,” she whispered and then heard Peter moving behind her.
A second later, Peter was on his knees next to her. “Here, kitty-kitty,” he whispered.
Hazel knew better than to talk to her cat like that. He was far too intelligent for silly nonsense.
Instead, she focused on him with a serious gaze. “I don’t know what kind of game you think you’re playing, but this is not okay. You should have stayed home in Stonebridge.”
You need me.
“I don’t need you every minute of every day. I’m totally safe here with Peter, and you could jeopardize my welcome. Did you pause to think of that?”
You need me.
She scoffed. Maybe Peter had the right idea after all. Reasoning with Mr. Kitty wasn’t happening.
Hazel looked up at her husband. “You go for the right side, and I’ll go for the left and try to reach him. One way or another, he’s coming out from underneath the bed.”
Peter gave her a skeptical look. “I’ll do my best to grab him if he runs out.”
Hazel knew Mr. Kitty could hear every word and that they were giving away their tactical plans, but she had no idea how else to retrieve him.
She slid in the small space between the wall and the bed that was just big enough to allow someone to change the sheets. When she reached the corner, she lowered herself to the floor.
Mr. Kitty was there, but when she tried to grab him, he scooted just out of reach. “Please come over here. Why are you making things so difficult?”
I don’t make things difficult. I help.
“This is not helping,” she said in a voice louder than she’d meant to use.
Peter shushed her, warning again that they were close to Madeline’s room.
Hazel nodded and silently chastised herself. She scooted a little farther beneath the bed, squishing herself between the bed frame and the hardwood floor. Dust motes rose to greet her, and she sneezed.
Mr. Kitty took that moment to run from beneath the bed, straight past Peter’s grasping hands.
She lifted, smacked her head on the bed frame, and cursed while she crawled out.
By the time she was upright, the door was open, and Mr. Kitty and Peter were gone. She could hear Peter’s feet hit the floor in rapid succession followed by a loud bang. She hurried into the hall.
Just as she reached it, the door opposite opened, and Madeline met her with a sleepy gaze. “What is all the commotion?”
Hazel froze. Her mind raced for an explanation, but nothing reasonable would appear. “Sorry. That was Peter. He was...showing me where he stayed when he was a kid.”
Madeline looked down the empty hall and then back to Hazel as though her explanation didn’t jive with what she’d heard.
Hazel twisted her fingers together. “We were looking at the cool stuff in his closet, and he...he remembered that he’d forgotten...that he’d scheduled a call with one of his guys back at the station. He was already late, and he did
n’t want to wake you with his talking, so he hurried downstairs for the call.”
Peter’s aunt narrowed her eyes. “It sounded like a herd of elephants out here.”
Hazel didn’t know what else to do but shrug.
Madeline sighed. “Reminds me of when he was younger. Always so noisy.”
A wistful smile animated the woman’s face. “I guess some things never change.”
Hazel pointed down the hallway. “I’ll go get him and drag him outside so that we don’t disturb you again. So sorry for that.”
Madeline waved away her apology. “No worries. I’d barely settled in anyway. I’ll see you both later.”
Hazel gave several quick nods and hurried as fast as she could toward the stairs without sounding like an elephant.
She found her husband reaching for the back doorknob. “Peter,” she whispered loudly. “What’s going on?”
The wild and crazy expression in Peter’s eyes reminded her of the time he’d chased down a murderer before tackling him. “I just about had that cat. I’d cornered him in the piano room, but then he dashed again, right between my legs.”
The picture he painted made her want to chuckle, but she refrained. “Any idea where he’s at now?”
“I did a quick walkthrough of all the rooms on this floor again, and then I spotted him sitting outside on the lawn just staring at the house.”
Peter pointed out the back door as proof, and there he was, sitting squarely on the lawn, looking like he hadn’t a care in the world.
Hazel scoffed angrily. “I hope he knows there will be a penance for this.”
She pushed Peter’s hand away from the knob, claimed it, and jerked open the door. “You come back here right this minute,” she said with a growl.
Mr. Kitty stayed put until she was only yards away.
Then he sauntered toward the greenhouse, swishing his tail as he went. She increased her speed to catch up with him, and he switched into an all-out dash.
Her cat paused at the closed greenhouse door and looked back as though to check if she’d followed. A second later, he disappeared inside, and she blinked furiously as she hurried forward. The door had been closed a second ago, hadn’t it?
It was only open a fraction now. Perhaps, the light had played a trick on her.
Peter caught up to her as she fully opened the door.
“He’s in here,” she said.
Warm, moist air assaulted her lungs as she stepped inside. Enticing smells of rich dirt teased her senses and reminded her how much she loved to plant things in dark soil and watch them grow.
She scanned rows of wooden planks that lined the building and filled two aisles down the middle, searching for ginger fur. A regal hosta with green and white leaves caught her attention, and then a flat of cheerfully blooming pink snapdragons stole it from there.
From her peripheral view, she caught sight of Peter moving quickly toward the back corner, and she turned to stalk her cat.
When she found him, Mr. Kitty sat patiently on a plank amidst several watering cans, empty pots, and containers of various types of fertilizers.
She set her jaw and strode toward him. “Listen here, Mr. Kitty. We’ve had enough of your shenanigans. If you don’t want us to drop you off somewhere along the side of the road on the way home—”
As if.
She widened her eyes in disbelief.
Peter came toward him from the side and lunged for him, likely expecting the feline to run again. Instead Mr. Kitty stepped aside, and Peter barreled into the plank hard enough to knock over several containers.
If cats could smile, Mr. Kitty was.
Peter tried again, and this time snatched the wily cat. Mr. Kitty didn’t resist his capture. Peter turned and handed him to Hazel. “Suspect apprehended. Bugger gave me more of a run than most criminals.”
Now that Hazel had her rogue cat in her grasp, she relaxed. She wrapped her hands around his soft, fluffy fur, and he began to purr.
She shook her head in disbelief and caught his gaze. “Oh, no. You’re not getting off so easily. Yes, I love you. Yes, your purrs make me happy, but you were a very naughty boy. You can’t go running around Madeline’s house like that. She doesn’t know I’m a witch, and I’d like to keep it that way.”
Peter began to pick up the containers he’d knocked over, and Mr. Kitty turned his attention in that direction. Hazel did the same. There were two bottles left on the ground when Peter paused and stared at the smaller white one in his hand.
An unwelcome disturbance rippled through the room, and Peter raised his gaze to her.
She swallowed her unease. “What is it?”
He lifted the bottle, his gaze overflowing with apprehension. “Potassium cyanide.”
Six
Hazel stared into her husband’s eyes. His green irises were now darkened with fear over what he’d discovered.
“Cyanide?” she repeated.
Her quiet voice echoed through the silent greenhouse, and she struggled to fill her lungs with air.
He nodded solemnly and set the container of deadly poison back on the wooden plank with the other chemical solutions.
He stayed motionless while endless seconds dragged out between them. Then he shifted and glanced about the room.
Despite her intuition, she had no idea what Peter would do.
He strode from her, reached down to the second level of a shelf made from more planks, and pulled two plastic bags from a woven basket. He kept his eyes trained on Hazel as he returned.
Once he reached her, he slid his hand inside one bag and lifted the bottle of cyanide. He carefully set it inside the second bag and tied it shut.
“What are you going to do with that?” she asked cautiously.
“I’m taking it with us and putting it somewhere safe in our room until I can decide the best course of action.”
Hazel placed a hand on his arm. “Peter, what if it’s evidence that can help solve the murder?”
He tightened his jaw. “Hazel, I’m not going to turn over something that might implicate my aunt until I know for sure she committed the murder. I’ve seen how these things can work. Mayor pressures police to solve the crime. Police twist what evidence is available to make a person, sometimes any person, look guilty so that they can close the case and bring calm back to the community.”
Her throat constricted. “But you could be guilty of tampering with evidence or obstructing justice. You could lose your job for that, or worse, go to jail.”
He blew out a breath heavy with frustration. “I’m not going to jail, because my aunt didn’t do it, okay? This is just a precaution. We don’t even know if it’s the kind of poison that was used or if the bottle is correctly labeled.”
Hazel worked to settle her fears, but his wild emotions didn’t help. “That’s true.”
She paused a moment, and a thought emerged. “Assuming the bottle is labeled correctly, can you think of a reason why your aunt might have cyanide here? It’s not that easy to get.”
He clenched his jaw and remained silent for several long seconds. “No. I can’t.”
She swallowed, not at all comfortable with his response. “Okay. Okay. I truly don’t believe she did it, either. I’m just thinking ahead.”
Peter stared into her eyes for a long moment, and she sensed that he was searching her for the truth. He wouldn’t see that she’d lied because she hadn’t. Unless Madeline was an expert at deception, she’d come across as a good person.
Then another consideration surfaced, and she blinked. “Peter, what if it’s not Madeline?”
She hesitated to say it out loud. “What if Tracy murdered Olive?”
He scoffed, and then his expression grew serious. “I don’t think. I... She... No, I can’t believe she’d do it, either. What would be her motive?”
Hazel shrugged. “I don’t know her well enough to guess. Though she did seem adamant that your aunt didn’t do it. Maybe that’s because she knows who did?”
/> Peter shook his head several times. “None of this makes sense.”
Unfortunately, for Hazel, it did hold some meaning. “Peter, I think there might be a reason Mr. Kitty led us here. Look at him. Now that you’ve found the bottle, he’s no longer running. Maybe he can sense that there’s something evil about it.”
Peter blanched. “Come on. Let’s get out of here. We’re jumping to conclusions before we know any of the facts. Your cat couldn’t know who killed Olive. He was home in Stonebridge when it happened.”
Perhaps not, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be aware of certain things pertaining to the case.
Mr. Kitty shifted in her arms, half asleep now and seeming completely unconcerned about the possibility they might be staying with a murderer.
Hazel held him tight against her chest and looked at him with admonishment. “You’d better come with us and stay close. There could be a murderer in our midst.”
Her cat protested with an unconcerned meow.
They stepped from the muggy greenhouse into fresh air, and Hazel breathed deeply.
Peter placed a hand on her back and guided her toward the bungalow. “Walk on this side of me to keep him hidden better. We don’t need his presence to complicate matters.”
She nodded and then glanced at the plastic bag filled with possible incriminating evidence. Her gaze flitted immediately to the big house. “You should hold that sack between us, too. Who knows if anyone might be watching?”
He shifted the bottle of cyanide to his other hand, and they both hurried across the vast lawn as fast as possible without running.
Once inside, Hazel lowered Mr. Kitty to the floor. “Please stay inside. I know you like to roam, but it’s only for a couple of days, and it’s the best way to keep you safe.”
He stared at her for a long moment and then chuffed. With his tail high in the air, he disappeared into the bedroom. She followed and watched as he strolled to the bed, jumped up, and plopped himself right in the center of the mattress between their two suitcases.
“He’s not sleeping there,” Peter said from behind her.
“No, he’s not,” she said firmly to her cat. “This is our honeymoon. We get the bed. I’ll make you up a nice, soft place in the bathroom.”