Pawsibly Guilty

by CeeCee James

  Sophia opened the fridge and stood before it, her hands on her hips. After a few “Hmms,” she finally crowed. “Raspberry cordial coming up!” She hauled out a container of grape juice and balanced it against her skinny leg while shutting the door.

  I froze at the sight. Fruit juice had never been a favorite of mine anyway, outside of orange, but I absolutely detested grape juice. Still, I managed to smile and nod as the girl pulled out two glasses and filled them with the purpley poison. My stomach fluttered at how full Sophia topped my glass.

  “Here you go!” She grinned as I climbed off the floor. She insisted on doing a cheers, clinking her glass next to mine, and then it was on. She gulped while I tried to sip.

  “What’s the matter? Don’t you like Raspberry cordial, Diana?”

  I grinned at how she assumed the role of Anne. “It’s positively delightful,” I said back in my best Diana impression.

  “I knew you’d love it because we’re kindred spirits.”

  Just then, Stephen stumped through the door. He glowered at the two of us. “Are you done yet?”

  “Marilla, I finished all my chores earlier today,” Sophia piped back.

  “What?” he turned to me.

  “Marilla, the woman from Anne of Green Gables,” I offered.

  “She’s grouchy sometimes,” Sophia added.

  Stephen arched an eyebrow. Apparently, the subtle comparison was not lost on him.

  “So, did you ever figure out where the rock came from?” I asked, trying to find common ground.

  “Lava rocks not often found around here.” He shrugged.

  I reached into my coat pocket. “Look what I found in the basement,” I gave that description because I really didn’t want to explain where I’d been.

  Luckily, he didn’t question it. “Strange. Let me see that.” He reached out a callous hand, and I dropped the cigar wrapper in his palm. He rolled it a few times and held it up to the light. “Where did you say you found this again?”

  “In the basement. I was searching for the cat. You think one of the construction workers left it?”

  He frowned. “Maybe. It’s an expensive brand, though.”

  “You think there are any fingerprints? I mean, besides our own.”

  “Nah. Nothing good’s left on it. I just want to know who tossed it.”

  “You think this has to do with Andy’s death?”

  “One thing I’ve learned in my life, there’s no such thing as coincidences.” His eyes caught mine then, and he quickly looked away.

  “Look at my drawing!” Sophia called. She held out a paper.

  I recognize her right away. And there was her brother. And what was in his hand? A little red heart.

  The next thing I saw of Stephen was his back as he hurried out of the house, declaring there was work to be done.

  Chapter Fifteen

  As if life wasn’t enough of a mystery, Marguerite acted strangely all throughout dinner service. She kept snapping at Lucy for silly things and had Mary bring Miss Janice her evening nightcap rather than do it herself. After all the chores were finished, I caught her again rummaging through the dining room linens when normally she’d be in the kitchen, feet up, arguing with Cook.

  I, of course, wondered if this had something to do with Miss Janice’s outburst. I didn’t say anything, just took my cookies and cup of tea and headed to my room.

  After a bite of the snickerdoodle, I arranged myself on the bed with my sketch pad. I didn’t have a drawing in mind but let my hand move freely, and soon, there was an outline of a face and hair in the shape of braids. A hangnail on my thumb distracted me. Frustrated, I bit it off and sucked it to soothe the sharp pain. After another few minutes, I had my version of Anne of Green Gables staring back at me. I held the paper away to get a better look and grinned. She looked an awful lot like Sophia.

  A thump on my bed caused me to squeal. Hank stared at me, quite perturbed that I’d dare make such a noise at his arrival. I’d been so focused, I hadn’t heard him nudge the cupboard door open.

  “Hank!” I flung myself toward him and scooped him into a big hug. He accepted it with only a slight stiffening of his front legs. “I’ve missed you so much!”

  After I pampered and praised him like the king he was, he settled down into a curled orange cinnamon roll at the foot of the bed. I could have cried, I was so happy to have my legs weighed down again and be subjected to another night where I couldn’t move because he hogged up all the bed space.

  Coziness warmed my heart. I wiggled into my plumped pillows and stared at the drawing again, thinking about the man Sophia had mentioned seeing that horrible night. I’d really thought it had been Austin until she handed over the rosary.

  I glanced at the string of beads on top of my dresser and wondered what Andy’s relationship with the Reverend Bay had been like. Had they been friends? That thought led me to remember how Madeline from the tea shop had mentioned a new guy she was dating. Had Andy known Clint was dating Madeline? Maybe there was bad blood there.

  There was a knock on my door. I scooted from the bed, bouncing the mattress a bit. Hank opened one disturbed eye.

  “Sorry, your majesty,” I whispered before answering the door.

  Mary stood there with a grin. “I come bearing gifts!” She held out a plate piled high with more of Cook’s snickerdoodles. Of course, I let her right in.

  “So, what are you doing?” she asked as her gaze swept across my sketch book and on to the cat. “Hank! You’re back!” She sat down and rubbed him behind the ear before offering him a crumb of cookie. He gave a huge disinterested yawn before casually leaning over to give it a sniff. As if he were doing her a favor, he gently took it.

  “Just drawing,” I said, helping myself to a cookie. “You know, I was thinking about what Madeline said about her new boyfriend, Clint Miller.”

  “Oh, yeah. She said Andy and Clint were friends.”

  “Right? That seems weird. Isn’t there like a bro-code or something that should cover that?”

  “Yeah, exactly. It does make Clint seem a little suspect.”

  I remembered how I’d wanted to search him up earlier and grabbed my phone.

  Mary leaned in. “Wait, there he is.” She pointed. “Look at those black glasses. So Clark Kent. He’s kind of cute.”

  “He’s a paralegal,” I said, trying to read Clint’s public information.

  She pulled her phone up now as well and furiously started typing. I was impressed with her speed. “Check this out. Remember how Mrs. Fitzwater said he was in debt? It seems Clint had an investment go badly. He took his client’s money and steered him the wrong way. There was an investigation that seemed to end in nothing. Both he and the company mutually decided to part ways.”

  I straightened. “Part ways? That’s code for fired, isn’t it? They used a term to not ruffle any investors.”

  She frowned, making two neat lines between her eyebrows. “The company is called Portfolio Products. But when I typed in the name, it says it no longer exists.”

  “Weird. Do businesses really dissolve, or do they transform and rename themselves?”

  She gasped. “It said Andy was on the board of directors.”

  Possible big enemy for Andy there. But which person? Clint, who had been fired for suggesting the investment? Or the investor?

  “Wait, here’s another investment firm. It looks like Clint is attached to this one all on his own,” Mary said.

  “So, what are you saying?” I asked.

  “If people were investing where Andy tells them to, maybe Andy was using Clint to make those popup companies to work through. All of them were based in Las Vegas. Maybe Clint was moving Andy’s money. And the new company was so that Andy’s name wasn’t attached to it. Remember how Mrs. Fitzwater said Clint did the grunt work for him?”

  I did remember that. And I also remembered the candid photo of Clint in the background, glaring at Andy.

  “But how could any of them have mu
rdered Andy here in Mrs. Thornberry’s house?” I wondered.

  Mary took a last bite of the cookie and stood to brush the crumbs onto the floor. “Well, there was the politician, Reverend Bay, Austin, Mrs. Fitzwater, and Miss Janice. It seems we can rule the last two out as suspects, but maybe it’s time to dig deeper into the others.”

  I nodded, agreeing.

  She typed in the politician’s name. Her lip curled in distaste. “I can’t find anything solid, but here’s a photo op with him and Clint.”

  “Can you see who took the photo? Because Andy is a photographer.”

  She scrolled. “It doesn’t say. However, it seems Clint may have gotten a job at the politician’s campaign center.”

  “And working for an investment firm? That’s a busy boy.”

  “Talk about a small world.” She typed some more. “The politician has his office at a building close to the train station.”

  “Now that’s really interesting.” I sat up, excited.

  “Why?”

  I blurted out, “Remember Andy had a train ticket stub in his pocket. His connection was at that train station.”

  “When do you pick up your dresses?”

  Her question took me off guard. “Soon, I think. I’ll ask Marguerite.”

  “Yeah, ask her. I think it’s time to do a little reconnaissance on Mr. Clint Miller.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Several days passed in the way they do when you are doing repetitive mundane tasks. Some mornings I couldn’t remember if I’d already dusted that room or if it was time again. Marguerite seemed especially distracted. I do know we spent a lot of time preparing the house for the gala. And then the news came that I’d been waiting for. My dresses were finally ready.

  This time, instead of having Brett schlep us around, Mary borrowed a car from her cousin. She also rounded up Lucy to join us for this investigation. When Marguerite found out we were leaving, she tacked on a stop to pick up Miss Janice’s special headache tonic. “I could have it delivered, but since you are out,” she explained.

  The three of us left in the early afternoon, all of us a little giddy for the outing.

  “So, what’s the plan?” I asked as I climbed into the back.

  “We’re going to track down Clint Miller and find out what the politician was doing,” Mary announced, backing up.

  “I’m so excited!” Lucy said. I could totally understand that. As far as I knew, she hadn’t had an opportunity to leave the manor in weeks.

  With music blasting and windows down, we celebrated our freedom like we had spring fever. I was surprised by the amount of traffic the closer we drove to the train station. Mary stopped the car outside the depot to drop me off.

  “Call us!” Mary demanded, ignoring the honk behind her.

  “Be careful!” cried Lucy. “Watch out for strangers!”

  My steps faltered at the last bit of advice, but the car had already taken off, bumping down the road with a man in a pickup truck shaking his fist as he followed.

  The wind had picked up. I grabbed my hair to keep it from blowing around like a tornado and ducked my head. The station’s grounds moved like an anthill with all the hurrying folks trying to make their connections. Being mindful not to bump into anyone, I briskly walked with my eyes glued to the buildings directly across the street.

  Where was the campaign building? I passed a direction board that attracted a crowd of lost travelers trying to find their train. Two trains waited on the tracks to be boarded. I moved along the walkway, trying to avoid being bumped by passengers dragging along small carry-on suitcases. Other people had backpacks and large duffles.

  My phone rang. I brushed my hair back behind my ear and clicked my bluetooth. “Hello?”

  “You see him yet?” Mary asked.

  “No. I can’t even find the building. It’s bananas here. Did you park yet?”

  “We’re still looking for a spot. Get out of the way!” A horn honked. “People drive like maniacs,” Mary grumbled.

  I’d just left her car. I knew who drove like a maniac.

  Then I saw an American flag in the window. “I’ve found the headquarters. I’m going in.”

  “Don’t approach him on your own!” Mary insisted. “Wait for us. We’ll be there in just a minute.”

  “Hurry!” I said before hanging up.

  I ran to the crosswalk and stood with the clump of other people waiting to cross. The green light felt stale, but traffic whizzed through like they knew it was a long traffic signal. I bounced on my toes, my chest buzzing with that kind of excitement that’s a cross between adrenaline and anxiety.

  Then I saw him. His thick-framed glasses were a dead give-away. Clint was already on my side of the street and walking fast. He pulled a baseball cap out of his pocket and shoved it on his head. I tried to shrink behind the light pole.

  Clint glanced around him as if he felt my eyes on him. He tugged his hat lower and hurried down the sidewalk, darting around passengers, both disembarking and entering again.

  From where I stood, my earlier analogy of an ant nest was spot on. Only now, it looked like some naughty child had stirred it up with a stick. A new train had pulled in and was now disembarking hundreds of passengers. The hot air felt like standing under a broiler as the sun beat off the pavement. I wasn’t excited to dive in.

  However, every step led Clint farther away. I had no choice, so tucking my hair behind my ears, I dove into the crowd.

  It was like being sucked into a whirlpool. I zig-zagged to avoid the onslaught of rushing people and also keep the man in sight. He sped up, either eager to get out of there or he suspected a tail. Either way, with his long legs and masculine plow, he made headway faster than I could keep up.

  My phone rang again. I answered it, and Mary squawked in my ear. “Where are you?”

  “I found him. I’m heading back to the train station.”

  “We’re coming in. Don’t hang up.”

  Her words ignited me like taking a bold pill, so I sped up more. I felt more confident now that I knew back up was on its way.

  “He’s passing the train right now. He’ll be on the other side in just a minute. He’s wearing a brown shirt and a blue baseball cap.”

  “Can you make that any vaguer?”

  “He’s definitely blending in,” I admitted. “Brown boots. Blue jeans.”

  “Terrific.” She deadpanned. “Don’t lose him.”

  “I’m not. I’m not,” I assured her.

  However, it was getting harder. Clint moved with the speed of a man on a mission, his legs pumping fast. Another train opened its door, and a new huge surge of people pounded out onto the boardwalk. I panicked and started pushing a little to keep up. The space between us grew, and I lost him every now and then. I resorted to jumping in the air, searching for the blue cap.

  This was crazy.

  I spotted a bench occupied by a teenage couple and ran over. “Excuse me for just a second.” With that, I stood on the bench to search the crowd for the floating blue hat.

  Where was he?

  And then my jaw dropped. I found him all right. Talking with Reverend Bay.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Mary coughed in my ear. “Do you see him?”

  “Yeah,” I said slowly. “He’s talking with Reverend Bay.” A car whizzed by, and the air current pulled at my hair. I quickly tucked the strand behind my ear.

  “What? Why would a campaign secretary be talking to the Reverend Bay?”

  “And once investing assistant. I’m not sure.”

  Yes, there could be many innocent reasons. Maybe Clint needed some spiritual advice. Maybe some encouragement. Possibly they were even friends.

  But as I watched, none of those reasons seemed to cut it. The two men weren’t making eye contact. Reverend Bay handed Clint something, who hid it in his pocket. My eyebrows lifted. With that, they went their separate ways.

  Adrenaline spiked through my chest as I saw Clint promptly walk toward
me. I jumped down.

  “Where are you!” I hissed into the phone, spinning around. The teenagers eyed me suspiciously.

  I gave them a regretful smile. “I’m sorry.” I started walking away and mumbled back into the phone, “I’m standing by the bus schedule. You need to hurry. Clint is headed this way.”

  “Stall him! We’re on our way!” Mary demanded and hung up.

  Stall him? Were they crazy? The last thing I wanted to do was to be seen by the guy. I continued to slowly walk away, expecting Clint to soon overtake me.

  Just then, I saw Mary and Lucy walking in my direction. Mary waved her hand, but I saw she wasn’t focusing on me.

  “Clint!” she called with a happy smile.

  I stopped walking. Talk about not being subtle. What was she doing?

  “Yoo-hoo! Clint!” she repeated.

  I turned around. Clint saw her, his mouth hanging open. He snapped it shut and glanced to the left as if searching for a way to escape.

  There was no escape from Mary. She skipped past me and over to him and laid her hand on his arm. She smiled like he was a celebrity. Lucy followed suit.

  Clint’s lip quirked up into a half-smile even as his gaze remained bewildered. It was easy to see, despite the oddness of the situation, he felt rather flattered.

  I sighed and decided to join the act. “Clint! I’m so happy to see you!” I squealed, running up.

  His eyes met mine. “Do I know you guys? I can’t remember….”

  “Oh, Clint, don’t be silly. We met when you worked at Portfolio Products. Whatever happened to them?” Mary smiled brightly.

  It didn’t have the desired effect she’d been hoping for. Clint’s eyes narrowed, and he stepped back. Casually, he disengaged his arm and brushed off the front of his shirt. “Sorry, you have the wrong person.”

  “Oh, no, we don’t.” Lucy stepped forward. Gone was the fawning. Instead she frowned back just as hard. Were we playing good cop, bad cop now? She fished into her purse. “I have information about you right here. And I know you just met with the Reverend Bay. The one who was in the room when Andy Fitzwater was murdered.”