Pawsibly Guilty

by CeeCee James

“Oh.” I felt my cheeks heat up. I certainly had never seen that side of him. That man was as grouchy as a bear woken up from a leg cramp in the middle of January. She must be mistaken.

  I changed the subject. “So, what’s your favorite thing to do while you’re here?”

  “I like to read. My teacher gave me Anne of Green Gables.”

  “Ahh. Anne with an e.” I smiled. “One of my favorite books. After you finish the book, we’ll have to celebrate with a little raspberry cordial.”

  “What’s that?” Her brow wrinkled again.

  I chuckled. “You’ll see when you get there.” I gestured to the crack in the wall. “So where does that come out at?”

  “Into the herb garden. Behind the storage shed.”

  “Oh. Amazing.” A thought occurred to me. “Have you ever been inside the house?” The idea suddenly made me sad, to think of the little girl playing in the courtyard but forbidden to go inside.

  She nodded her head again. “A long time ago. Mr. Thornberry used to sneak me in. We played chess, and Cook would bring in dessert. One time she gave me a hot fudge sundae. With two cherries.” She licked her bottom lip at the memory.

  That’s right, I remembered hearing about that. “Maybe I can bring you in again, someday.”

  This time Sophia’s shaking caused her braids to flap ferociously. “No, way. My brother said I have to stay away from there. Besides, there are bad people in that house.”

  My breath caught in my throat. “Bad people? What do you mean?”

  “A man died.” Her voice sank. “I saw the police take him away.”

  My guts clenched. So, the girl knew what had happened to Andy Fitzwater. Wow, that had been late at night. Irritation at Stephen flashed through me. Why didn’t he keep better tabs on this little girl? She shouldn’t be wandering about just as she pleased.

  “I’m sorry you saw that,” I responded, through gritted teeth, trying hard to hide my emotions.

  “I heard something, though,” she added.

  “You did? What did you hear?”

  “Some man came running out of the house when the police were still in there. He was talking on his phone. He was trying to rip his tie off his neck.”

  “Okay.” I remembered how Austin had said he had to take a phone call. I waited to see if she’d add more.

  She did happily. “He looked awful mean, and he growled, ‘It’s done, alright. It’s done.’”

  My tongue curled like jerky. I tried to sound calm. “Did he say anything else?”

  “No. He got in his car and then almost ran over my favorite red rose bush. You know the one by the garage?”

  “Yes. It’s beautiful,” I answered thoughtfully. His statement was practically an admission of guilt, wasn’t it? I had to get the book club together and let them know. “Did he say a name?”

  She shook her head. “But he dropped this.” Her small hand dipped into her shorts pocket and pulled out a cross necklace.

  I frowned as she passed it over to me, the cross glinting in the sunlight. Maybe it hadn’t been Austin, after all. I couldn’t see him with a rosary. Was it possible that it had been Reverend Bay instead?

  “Thank you,” I said and turned the necklace over in my palm. There were no identifying marks.

  “Well, I’m going home now, okay?” Sophia’s eyes widened. “My brother might be worried.”

  I nodded. “Yes, of course. Can you do me a favor? A special Anne favor. I need you to be careful around the house. Stay away from the roofers. They could accidentally drop something, and I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  She grinned when I said roofers. “They’re so funny. One climbed up on all those ladders and then tied a rope on his belt. Then he dropped his hammer. It slid on the tiles like a snowball. And plop! Into the grass. You should have heard the words he said when he had to climb all the way down again.” She giggled.

  I groaned as my eyes shut. Stephen had to be told about this. “That’s exactly what I mean. What if the hammer had hit you?”

  Sophia shrugged like I was an old lady and then waved goodbye. A second after she slipped into the crack, the brick wall door snapped in place, concealing it.

  I touched the brick plaster. Clever. No one would ever notice the entrance, especially with it being covered with ivy like this.

  I walked back and found my soup mug in a patch of grass and then headed into the house. As the bookshelf closed behind me, I studied the handy work. The same as the brick wall, the craftsmanship was impeccable, with a seam so flawless, you’d never notice if you didn’t know its exact location.

  How many more hidden places were there in this house?

  Slowly, I examined the entire length of the wall. My fingers ran along the silky wood, testing for weakness or air drafts.

  Everything felt solid. How did one go about finding secret rooms without a map?

  My gaze landed on the cupboard the cat normally snuck through.

  This was a day to explore, apparently. I opened the cabinet to peer inside, shivering at the sight of hanging cobwebs in two of the corners. Reaching for my cell phone, I snapped on the flashlight.

  The crack the cat squeezed through was way in the back. A hanging board covered the gap. I reached in and gave the board a tug.

  Horror filled me when the whole chunk fell off. It landed at the bottom of the cupboard, revealing a crawl space.

  I bit my lip. The space was small, but I thought I could definitely squeeze through.

  Should I do it? I glanced behind me. The dark study now appeared like an oasis compared to the black cave inside the cupboard. But I could find Hank in those walls. He might be hurt and need help. He was my buddy, and I owed it to him to check it out.

  Every emotion swam inside of me. I gave the study one last longing look before ducking my head and crawling into the cupboard.

  Chapter Seven

  It was narrow inside, much more than I expected. Musty air seeped along the floor and curled around my ankles like wet socks, smelling of old fish. Did I really want to do this? I glanced back at the light from the study that now looked warm and welcoming.

  Then Hank’s sweet face popped into my mind, and I knew what I had to do. Covering my nose with my shirt, I started forward. Let’s see where this went and if it eventually led to Hank.

  Lines of the lathe and plaster made up the inside of the walls. Chunks of plaster littered the ground along with other icky, unidentifiable stuff. Every breath felt ladened with dust.

  I inched along the dark tunnel, only catching myself in the nick of time from reaching out for balance when I tripped on some plywood debris. No way was I going to touch that cobweb-infested wall.

  The noise of my foot scuffle echoed. Was that a meow? It sounded like Hank. I couldn’t hear more because water dripped from someplace unseen ahead of me. A puddle or something larger.

  Should I keep going? The air felt clammy from the humidity in the air, and the anticipation of bats kept my skin crawling. My phone’s light bobbled down the tunnel from the adrenaline prickling my hands. I continued along.

  “Hank? Kitty. Kitty. Kitty.” My voice echoed back and sounded desperate and afraid. I didn’t like that at all. I spoke a little stronger. “Hank?”

  There was no meow back, just a steady drip, drip, drip. I swung the light up along the ceiling to search for any creepy crawlies. Nothing seemed to live in here.

  Then I heard voices. I crept forward until they sounded like they were directly on the other side of the wall. I hid the light in my armpit and listened, my heart pounding.

  It was Miss Janice. “It’s over, you know. Over.”

  She paused, and I held my breath. She hadn’t heard me in here, had she? No, her response wasn’t directed at me because she continued in fury, “I won’t tolerate any nonsense.”

  Goosebumps raised along my arms at her fierceness. Who was she talking about?

  “Marguerite’s replacement will be here soon,” Miss Janice growled. “And then I’ll
tell her.” I heard the phone slam down.

  Marguerite? What did she do? What would we do without her?

  I couldn’t handle anymore. I turned and stumbled back. My hand made contact with the wall, but this time I didn’t care. All that mattered to me was Marguerite. Did she even know? Should I tell her what I heard?

  As I reached the cupboard, the grandfather clock chimed for dinner. Everyone would be dressing for service. I slid the door back and crawled out into the study. I shut the cabinet and hugged myself. How could I face Marguerite?

  I had to get a grip. I couldn’t just stay here and get caught. Flustered, I hurried over to the door and listened for footsteps. Hearing no one, I slipped out into the hallway. The hinges made me wince as I shut it, my heart pounding.

  Seeing no one, I wiped my sweaty palms and tried to compose myself. I had no idea what I was going to say when I saw the head housekeeper, and I needed a strategy.

  It turns out there was no time. Marguerite found me as I started up the stairwell. Her eyebrows raised. “You’re out of bed? How are you feeling?”

  “Oh. I’m okay.” I felt as a stiff as frozen laundry out on a winter line.

  She stared at me. “You’re absolutely filthy. And… what is this?” She plucked a cobweb off from my elbow and held it before her. I shivered at the sight.

  “I dropped my cup and had to crawl a bit to retrieve it.” I held out the mug, thankful I’d remembered to snag it from the room.

  “I see.” Her nose wrinkled. “Well, how are you feeling now?”

  “Better.” I nodded. “It really was allergies.

  “Hmph. Allergies. I told you, Jewish penicillin works every time. Anyway, it’s good you’re well because I don’t have time to deal with any more drama. I have to call the clock repairman. Is there anything else that could go wrong?”

  My cheeks heated at her words. I tried to cover. “What’s going on with the clock?”

  “It’s not keeping correct time.” She squinted at me. “You sure you’re okay? You look a little funny.”

  I nodded vigorously and tried not to be insulted by that description.

  She continued, “Still since you were sick, how about we play it safe and have you in the laundry room while we do dinner?”

  I nodded. Marguerite watched me a moment longer like she suspected something, but then walked toward the kitchen.

  My shoulders slumped after she left. On the one hand, I was grateful our initial meeting was over, and I hadn’t blurted out what I’d heard. But I still didn’t know what to do with that information.

  All I knew was that I really needed Hank.

  Chapter Eight

  Later that night, when we were all tucked in our beds like bugs in a rug, a little tap came from my door. I sat up, every hair raised, and glanced at the clock. Half-past eleven. I barely remember falling asleep. That allergy medicine must have knocked me out.

  Tap, tap, tap. Frowning, I went to get my robe and answer the door.

  Mary stood there, barefoot and in pajamas. “You okay? I heard you were sick.”

  “Allergies,” I whispered. “Come in.”

  She scooted in and shut the door. “We’re having a meeting.”

  “Now?” I asked, surprised.

  “Miss Janice has been in a rage all day. It took this long to get her settled for the night. You coming?” she asked.

  I nodded and went to grab my phone. My fingers brushed the rosary Sophia had given me earlier. Actually, it felt like a lifetime ago. “Check this out.” I held it up.

  “Where did you get that?” Mary asked, her brow wrinkling as she reached for it. Carefully she ran it over her hands, the beads winking in the light.

  “Sophia saw a man leave the house the night Andy died. She heard him tell someone on the phone that it was done, and then he dropped this.”

  “You think it’s Reverend Bay’s?”

  “It could be. However, that night I saw Austin leave, and he was on the phone.”

  She snorted. “I know Austin, and a rosary is the last thing he’d have on him. It has to be the reverend’s. But what a weird statement for him to say. I mean… there’s no way, right? That the reverend did it?”

  I rubbed my temples. “Anything’s possible, I guess.”

  She placed the rosary back on the dresser. “Come on, let’s go. We’ll see what everyone else says.”

  I followed after her and melted into a stream of women. All of us traveled like silent ghosts in our nightgowns and slippers toward Marguerite’s room. There was a little bumping and squashing as we crowded inside her quarters, and Mary squeezed the door shut with a soft click.

  “Right. We’re ready.” She gestured to Marguerite.

  The head housekeeper pressed the third shelf of the bookshelf, and it swung open, revealing the glorious book club room. We filed in, with me as the caboose, to a room perfumed with blood orange tea and chocolate chip cookies. Another thing that was new… two oscillating fans, already hard at work in their opposite corners. I grinned at Marguerite, who lifted an eyebrow in return.

  There was the usual exercise of pouring tea and filling napkins full of treats, which ended with settling into our respective seats like a row of nesting hens.

  “Ladies, I know it’s late. Thank you for coming,” Marguerite began. “As you can guess, this emergency meeting was desperately needed after Andy Fitzwater’s death. We have some things to discuss, I think.” She glanced at me and nodded. “Laura Lee?”

  The allergy meds had made me clean forget about my earlier meeting with Mrs. Fitzwater. I took a sip of tea to collect my thoughts and then walked to the front table.

  Everyone stared at me expectantly like a waiting orchestra. A part of me wanted to giggle and swing my arms like the conductor.

  I cleared my throat and reminded myself this was serious business. “Today, I met Mrs. Fitzwater in town. The long and short of it boils down to a request she had for us. All of us. She would like to hire us to do our own investigating into her nephew’s death. If we find anything that leads to an arrest—” I paused for drama and then blurted out, "She’ll pay us fifty thousand dollars.”

  The women gasped and fluttered hands with excitement.

  Marguerite grabbed her chest. “You never told me that!” she said accusingly.

  Cook spoke next. I was surprised to see how her face sank into a frown. “Sometimes it’s better to let sleeping dogs lie,” she said hesitantly.

  Protests rose from the group, and she defended her position. “I mean, we don’t want to be poking around and stir up an angry ghost or something.”

  “Nonsense.” Marguerite shook her head as her mouth settled into a sensible expression. “The boy was murdered, and the culprit is free. Justice must be served. If we can put our heads together and figure this out, as well as get a booty for reward, more power to us.”

  “I’m in!” shouted Mary. “People can’t just be murdered under our watch and get away with it.”

  A chorus of assents followed. Cook didn’t look happy and sat back with her arms crossed over her chest and her bottom lip jutting out.

  After everyone calmed down, I continued. “Okay, this is what we have so far. The night that Andy was murdered, Sophia saw a man leave the house. He dropped a rosary and muttered something about it being done.”

  That immediately sparked conversation. I heard bits and pieces.

  “Who’s Sophia again?”

  “The gardener’s baby sister.”

  Cook spoke up, “What was that child doing out so late?”

  I shrugged.

  Marguerite huffed. “Well, that statement could have meant anything. Honestly, she might not have even heard him right. And I’m appalled Stephen did not have her in bed.” She glared at me like it was my fault.

  I swallowed and continued on with how Mrs. Fitzwater said there were four enemies at the dinner. Which was the perfect segue-way for Marguerite to share the story of finding Austin in the room with Andy.


  “Is anyone here acquainted with either Andy or Austin?” Lucy asked.

  I answered, “I found Austin on social media. Those two are a part of a group of friends that used to be fraternity brothers. They all still hang out.”

  “You think Austin would kill Andy?” questioned Mary. “What would the motive be? Especially if they were long time friends?”

  “We’ll have to see if there’s a reason,” Marguerite decided. “And there have to be other suspects. I’m sure someone like Andy has a few enemies.”

  “His infidelities,” I said, pulling in what Mrs. Fitzwater mentioned.

  “Exactly. There is a trail of broken hearts we need to track down.” Mary nibbled a cookie and licked her fingers.

  “But if it was any of those women, how could they have killed him?” Lucy bit her bottom lip. “I mean, they weren’t in the room with him.”

  “Well, that’s all part of the mystery, I suppose,” answered Janet.

  “Maybe it was something someone gave him earlier.” I threw out. “And I think we should also look into his business partners.”

  “He might have ripped someone off,” Cook clarified with a finger to her nose and then pointed at me.

  I thought of how Mrs. Fitzwater had she said he’d almost stolen her entire fortune. Was that something Cook already knew? Or had she stumbled onto it from coincidence?

  “Who wants to divide into search groups and then report back?” asked Marguerite. “And might I add, the key to our success is discretion. Silence is golden.”

  She said that and made me sweat. I was keeping a secret as well. But what good would it be to tell Marguerite? It would make her worried for nothing.

  I had no time to think of that because the clock struck midnight, and Marguerite called the meeting. We all did the reverse of entering the room. Mary made a quick peep down the hallway before everyone scurried out.

  Even though it was late, Mary and Lucy followed me into my room and plopped onto my bed, bouncing the pillow to the floor.

  I glanced at the still-cracked cupboard door as I grabbed the pillow. My heart sank.