Pawsibly Guilty

by CeeCee James

“What’s the matter?” asked Mary.

  “Have you seen Hank?” I asked, hugging the pillow to myself.

  “Now that you mention it, no.” Mary’s forehead wrinkled. “He always joins us on book club night.”

  “Me either!” Lucy exclaimed. “Do you think he escaped when the police came the other night?”

  A shot of dread hit me. “I hope not.”

  “Has he ever been outdoors?” Lucy asked.

  “Once,” I said. “He came home with the neighbor’s handyman.”

  The atmosphere in the room grew heavy.

  “Don’t worry. He’ll turn up.” Lucy jumped over to give me a hug.

  “So I wanted Lucy to see what you found the other day,” Mary indicated the rosary. “It might be our first clue.”

  Lucy examined it while I told her the story.

  “Weird,” she said, setting it down. “And I just realized we might have another clue here.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Andy’s dinner jacket.”

  “What?” Mary and I exclaimed in stereo.

  “He’d draped it over the dining room chair. I hung it up when I cleared the table.”

  We all stared at each other before Mary leaped to her feet. “Let’s go find it right now!”

  Our energy quickly diffused when we reached the hallway, turning instead into exaggerated tip-toes and muffled giggling. We hurried down the stairs and into the foyer. From there, we followed Lucy into the dressing room coat closet, where the tailored dinner jacket hung in the cedar wardobe.

  Mary took it down, and we studied at it a moment with a weird kind of reverence. I don’t think any of us wanted to be the first to examine it, so I bit the bullet and felt into the front pockets. There, I found a train ticket stub.

  Next, Mary opened it up to the silk interior. There were two inside pockets, which we carefully checked, coming up with a cigar wrapper and a card for a tailor named Blake Birch at Kess Tailoring.

  After looking over it carefully, I started to hang the jacket back up again.

  “Wait, what’s that?” Mary darted forward and found a hidden pocket on the lapel interior seam.

  “Good find!” I whispered. “What do you think this pocket is made for?”

  “It’s oddly specific.” The pocket was the width of two fingers. We patted the other seams, but the jacket had given up all of its mysteries.

  Except why the pocket was there.

  “I think we know our next place to visit,” I said, hanging up the jacket.

  “Where?” Lucy asked.

  “The business card. Maybe we can visit Kess Tailor and discover what that pocket was for.”

  “You think it has any bearing on Andy’s death?” Lucy continued.

  “At this point, nothing is out of the question,” Mary answered matter-of-factly.

  For some reason, that statement sent a tickle of premonition through me. I didn’t like it.

  Chapter Nine

  Birds woke me early the next morning. Stretching, I craned my neck to see out between the cracked curtains. The sun hadn’t quite made it over the horizon, and the light, the color of a dove’s egg, seeped through the muslin.

  I loved this time of the day when a soft cottony hush wrapped all sound and the air cool and fresh. I relaxed into the pillow and stretched. As my arms extended over my head, I swear I felt a draft in the air.

  Hank! Excited, I sat up, my eyes drawn to the cupboard, sure that the cat had visited during the night.

  The door was shut tight, with no telltale sign of a kitty paw having nudged it open.

  I flopped back on the bed, my soul rumpled with disappointment. I loved that orange gumdrop. I had to find him.

  Heaving a breath, I rolled over and grabbed my clothes from where I’d tossed them the night before and found my shoes. Lucy’s comment about Hank’s possible escape played in my head. I could go out looking for him. It was quiet outside, and my voice would carry. He’d hear me for sure.

  Flashlight in hand, I tiptoed downstairs to the massive front door. I unfastened the tight lock and slipped through, then eased it shut behind me and hurried down the stairs.

  Birds greeted me with a few quiet tweets from the dark tree branches that spread over the driveway. I flipped on the flashlight and swung the beam ahead, striping the front walk and surrounding rosebushes with bright white.

  “Hank,” I called out softly, trudging down the path. “Here, kitty, kitty, kitty. I have a treat. Come on, buddy, where are you?”

  I strolled through the circular parking and then headed down the driveway. I shivered. For as warm as the days were, the temperature dropped quite a bit at night. Now I wished I’d brought a sweater.

  By the time I reached the gate, my fingers felt half frozen. I blew on them before punching in the code to the gate. It grated open slowly and made horrid squeals like there was gravel in its gears. I remembered then the florist telling me the gate had stuck on her as well. I figured I’d tell Butler about it as I tucked the flashlight in my armpit and started down the road.

  “Hank!” I called. The tall privacy hedges shielded the manors like a house of cards. Their manicured tops glowed yellow as the rising sun crowned them with golden rays.

  I walked nearly all the way to Mrs. Fitzwater’s house, calling for Hank, my voice begging for his friendly orange face to appear. Birds flew overhead, as more woke up.

  It was disappointing to realize I had to turn back. I didn’t have long before I would be needed for breakfast service.

  I made it halfway back to the Thornberry manor when my flashlight picked up something red. I bent down to examine it and saw it was a bright red rock. I tucked it into my pants pocket. Desperation to find Hank filled all my thoughts.

  After another hundred feet or so, I had to concede time had run out. “Hank!” I called plaintively one more time. When there was no answer, I plodded the rest of the way staring at the ground.

  “Penny for your thoughts?”

  I screamed and jerked, my hands flying forward to pepper someone with some fake karate moves.

  “Holy cow!” Stephen smirked, a wrench in his hand. “Aren’t you a live wire in the morning?”

  I clasped my hand over my heart and tried to take a deep breath. “What are you doing out here?”

  “I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.” He grinned again, somehow managing to look cute with his wild unkempt hair. “Just trying to get this gate fixed.”

  I remembered how it had sounded earlier. “What’s wrong with it?”

  He pulled out a handful of gravel and red rock. “Found these in the track.”

  “Weird.” I removed from my pocket the one I’d found a minute earlier. His eyebrow lifted, and he grunted in response. “I found it in the middle of the road right there.”

  “Let me see it.”

  I passed the rock over, and he rolled it on his palm, comparing it to the gravel he’d cleared out. “Lava rock. Strange.”

  “You think someone put them in there on purpose?”

  “Rocks don’t normally fall off trees.” He grinned and passed it back. I swear his scruffy face and warm eyes were cuter than usual. What was wrong with me? His face grew serious. “Hey, what are you doing out here so early, anyway?”

  I wasn’t sure if he knew about Hank, and I didn’t want to divulge the cat secret just in case. This was the best conversation I’d had with Stephen since I’d moved here. “Oh, you know, a little morning walk. But I have to get back. Time for breakfast.”

  “No rest for the wicked,” he said and moved out of the way so I could get by. I grinned and rolled my eyes before heading down the driveway.

  The beautiful light dressed the front of the manor in a warm flaxen gown. I took a chance to sneak through the main door.

  When I opened it, Janet ran past the entryway with an armload of table linens.

  “Where have you been?” she asked, her voice halfway between concern and judgment for shirking work.


  I lifted one sad shoulder. “Looking for Hank.”

  Janet’s expression remained exasperated. “Well, I’ve been cleaning out the downstairs powder room. Can you believe I’m finding these everywhere?” She reached into her pocket and pulled out several paper rings. “Cigar wrappers. What in the world?” She shook her head and continued toward the butler closet.

  I hurried up the stairs. Half-way up, I gave the statue’s head a pat for good luck.

  After tossing my jacket and flashlight, I fixed my hair and pulled on my uniform. Back downstairs, the kitchen rang with the noise of clanging pans and the scent of intense, dark coffee. I found a clean apron in the pantry to tie on.

  Cook whisked at something steaming like her arm was a piston.

  “What would you like me to start with this morning?” I asked.

  “Make sure the breakfast tray is set. Missus wants to take her breakfast upstairs this morning.”

  I located the silver tray and laid out the linen napkin. Then I plucked four oranges from the fruit bowl and ran them through the juicer, collecting the juice in a crystal glass. I added another napkin and a heavy silver utensil setting.

  In the meantime, Lucy washed, cut, and cored apples, grapes, passionfruit, and cherries for a fresh fruit salad. I sliced a nutty thick bagel and popped it into the toaster, and then found a stamp mold and filled it with cream cheese. Carefully, I stamped the flower shape onto a china plate. I did the same with a fresh mold and butter, while Cook placed an egg white omelet on a plate. The bagels popped up and the entire meal was overlaid in a silver cover. This was accompanied by a cup of coffee and a tiny pitcher of fresh cream.

  “Here you go.” Cook thrust the tray into my hands. “Take it up to her.”

  I swallowed and willed myself not to spill a drop as I carried the precarious burden up the flights of stairs. There was an elevator, but only Miss Janice was allowed to use it.

  Miss Janice had one thing to say when I brought it up to her safely. “No flowers?”

  I knew I’d forgotten something. “Sorry. Shall I get some now?”

  “It’s too late.” She shrugged into her silk wrapper and gestured toward the side of the bed. There, I gently set down the tray, with a silent thanks that it arrived pristine and beautiful, albeit flower free. “But don’t forget it tomorrow. I’m not in the mood to deal with any mishaps.”

  I swallowed and bobbed my head as her words about Marguerite rang through my mind.

  Chapter Ten

  I came down the stairs just in time to be swept into the whirlwind that was Mary, who linked her arm through mine and dragged me back out into the living room. As usual, her frizzy curls were barely controlled with a ponytail and wisps escaped like dandelion fluff.

  As soon as we were out of sight, she spun me in a circle in her excitement. “After lunch today, we’re going into town.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “Cook is sending us on an errand.” She winked a blue eye with impossibly long lashes. “We can do some reconnaissance.”

  “Why is she sending us?”

  She held a finger to her lips and whispered, “Turns out she broke Miss Janice’s favorite egg server set. She needs it replaced before tomorrow morning. She feels terrible, so hush-hush. I’ll get you when it’s time.”

  With that, she hurried upstairs to the laundry. I worried about Cook. With what Miss Janice had said earlier, this didn’t seem like a good time to make any mistakes.

  Sighing, I gathered my work supplies and started on the family dining room. From there, I moved to the parlor, the long hallway, and music room before working my way back to the kitchen to find out where Miss Janice would be taking her lunch.

  Nearly every day, she had her lunch in a different room. It made serving her like a treasure hunt. It turned out that today she would be out on the garden porch. Calling it a porch used only the word’s loosest definition because the lush room could be in any home decorator’s magazine. White furniture and glistening tiny overhead lights with several slow-turning fans. At least eight vases, each filled with tall white flowers, stood on scattered curio tables.

  I found Miss Janice perched on a blue chintz-covered love seat over in the corner of the room. Her feet tucked up underneath her, and she held a folder in her hand. She removed her reading glasses and rubbed her nose as I entered.

  “Lunchtime already? Thank you. You can set it there.” She gestured vaguely to a table.

  I placed the tray on the table and whisked off the metal cloche. This time I remembered to include a tiny vase filled with a single, perfect yellow rose.

  “A flower. You remembered.” I earned a small smile as Miss Janice set the paperwork next to her.

  “Contracts. What a bore. Who knew having money could cause so many more complications.” She leaned over to examine her food. “Pork chops today? How lovely.”

  I didn’t feel too bad for her and her money problems. A spot of money would help me out a great deal. “Is there anything else I can get for you, Miss Janice?”

  “Would you tell Marguerite to change the fabric softener back to that lavender-scented one? It’s just not been the same since she made the switch.”

  “Yes. Of course.”

  “And, one more thing.” Her nose wrinkled, and she studied me. Frowning slightly, she placed her glasses back on and gave me a slow once over. I shifted uncomfortably to be examined like this. “Do you have any evening attire?”

  “Evening?”

  “Yes. We’re holding a gala here soon. I like my staff to dress well.”

  “I’m not sure what I have.” I hadn’t packed any fancy dresses to work here. I really didn’t have any at home either.

  “Oh. Hmm. Have Marguerite look at your wardrobe and see if you have anything appropriate. Do you own something in black?”

  “I’m sure I don’t, ma’am. The only dresses I have are for the summer.”

  “I see. Well, not to worry. What size do you wear?”

  I flushed. “A six?”

  “I’m sure we can find something for you. We can get the dress altered. Then it will be a perfect fit. Talk with Marguerite.”

  The idea sounded very generous. “Thank you so much.”

  “Of course. Every girl should own a little black dress.” She smiled, softening her rather severe jawline.

  I thanked her again and hurried to go, uncertain about her attitude. I didn’t know what to think and definitely couldn’t trust her after her comments about Marguerite.

  About an hour later, Marguerite showed up in the laundry room where I was folding clothes. She carried two dresses draped over her arm, one black and knee-length, and one a full-length dark blue.

  “Where did she get these?” I asked, reaching out to run the fine material between my fingers.

  “She had them delivered. Try them on. You have an appointment with the tailor later today.”

  “She bought these for me?” I gasped.

  “Miss Janice has her quirks, but she can be surprisingly very generous at times.” Marguerite smiled. “Besides, it seems as though you’ve found her good side.”

  I cringed inside and ducked my eyes. “Uh, Marguerite—”

  “Yes?”

  I couldn’t tell her. “Miss Janice wanted you to know she likes the lavender fabric softener.”

  “I knew she wouldn’t like the new one. I guess I’ll be giving it to the gardener, then.”

  I smirked to think of Stephen smelling all florally.

  “What time is the appointment? Mary mentioned that the Cook had an errand for us.”

  “Oh?” Her eyebrows went up. Apparently, she hadn’t heard of the said errand.

  I stammered to fix it. “Uh, where is it again?”

  “Kess Tailoring.”

  Talk about serendipity! “Wonderful. Thank you so much for letting me know."

  “Your appointment is at two. Brett will drive you there.”

  She left to take the dresses to my room, and I finished the laund
ry. It was nearly one when I gathered the garments and headed downstairs to find Mary. I thought she might be in the kitchen, but Cook was alone.

  “Laura Lee,” Cook said, bobbing her head in greeting. Her forehead wrinkled, and her lips turned down as she scooped out balls of dough.

  “Making cookies?” I asked. It was the wrong thing to say.

  “Third batch today. The rest were ruined,” she said, and her face puckered up.

  “What’s the matter?” I rushed over to give her a hug.

  “Oh, I don’t know. I’ve been all out of sorts, and now I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

  “Does this have to do with that thing Mary said we were getting for you?”

  “She told you? She promised!” Her eyes widened with panic.

  “No, not at all. She said we were doing some errands. And it turns out to be perfect because I have an appointment today as well.”

  She went back to scooping dough, although I noticed she gave me a suspicious side-eye. “You are? What for?”

  “Miss Janice scheduled a dress fitting for me. Something about a gala?”

  “Oh, yes.” Her face relaxed. I was impressed with how quickly she filled the cookie sheet with dough, her arm moving as if powered by gears. “So you’ll have an excuse when you do me that little favor.” She leaned in to whisper. “I broke Miss Janice’s special egg cup. She got it at the china boutique in town. I asked Mary to please snag one up for me. If you’re going with her, then just take this.” She reached into her pocket and glanced behind her before thrusting her credit card in my hand. “Quick like a bunny! Before tomorrow’s breakfast.”

  The grandfather clock chimed one-thirty. Luckily I found Mary, who ran to get ready when Marguerite caught me on her way to the parlor.

  “You’re still here?” she asked, her near nonexistent eyebrows raised in question. “That clock is still not right, you know.”

  “Yes. Just leaving now.”

  “Well, you may want to grab an umbrella from the coat closet. It’s raining.”

  “I’ll do that.”

  I looped the dresses over my arm and snagged an umbrella. Outside, through the window, I could see Brett pull up with the town car. Marguerite wasn’t exaggerating. The rain fell in sheets, the kind that roars when it hits the ground like applause at the Super Bowl.