Pawsibly Guilty

by CeeCee James

  Now Clint’s eyes tightened with fear. He swallowed hard and glanced around him. “Follow me,” he said and guided us over to a spot by a mailbox and away from the crowds.

  “Well?” Lucy asked, her arms crossed in front of her. It made me happy to let her be the strong one. And it appeared to be working.

  “Listen, you’ve got the wrong guy. I’m just someone trying to make ends meet. Reverend Bay is the one you want to be looking at.”

  “And why is that?” Mary asked.

  He raised his chin. “I thought you said you had info.”

  “We do,” Lucy defended hotly.

  “Well, then you would know that Andy was blackmailing him.” Clint mimed taking pictures with a camera, his finger flicking like it was on the shutter. “Andy sure knew how to take his pictures.” He stared at us for a moment and then laughed. “What? You didn’t know? That’s how he forced people into investing in all his crazy ideas.”

  “But he had you involved in that, as well,” I said quietly.

  “Yeah, he did.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a sunglass case. After replacing his glasses, he tucked the case away. The movement made me think of the hidden pocket in the suit.

  “Did you know that Andy had a special pocket in his jacket?” I asked.

  He smirked. “You mean right here?” And pointed to where his lapel would be.

  I nodded.

  “That’s where he hid his USB drives. Whenever he met with a client to talk with them about investing, he carried a little insurance with him. Of course, he was often patted down to make sure he wasn’t carrying a wire or a weapon. Thus the secrecy.”

  “Did all his jackets have that pocket?”

  He shrugged. “When I saw him, he wore the same jacket. Which meant he was squeezing a client. Like our Reverend Bay back there. Now, that’s all you’re going to get from me. But you guys are slick. I suggest you use those skills on Andy’s associates. I think you’ll find more answers there than you want to.”

  “Weren’t you one of those associates?” I asked.

  “A long time ago. But he and Austin never brought me into the family business. I guess I’m just a rogue agent looking out for myself. Now I have to get going. I have a plane to catch.”

  With that, he disappeared into the crowd. I wanted to kick myself because I forgot to ask him about Madeline.

  I didn’t have too long to regret it because Lucy jumped in. “Who wants to visit the Reverend Bay?

  “I have to pick up my dresses.”

  Mary glanced at the time. “As well as Miss Janice’s tonic. We’ve got to run. They’re going to close soon, and if we don’t get it, Miss Janice will go into dragon mode.”

  Lucy laughed, which made Mary glare at her. “You think it’s funny, but that’s just because you’re sort of new. You haven’t experienced how ferocious she can get.”

  “How can she be scary? The woman isn’t even five feet tall,” Lucy scoffed.

  Mary shrugged. “Ever seen a chihuahua? My dad always told me dynamite comes in small packages. Now, come on!”

  Chapter Eighteen

  We picked up the tonic and raced to the dress shop, making it just in the nick of time as the woman turned the sign to closed. She watched us run up the stairs and rolled her eyes before grabbing a very large stack of keys to unlock the door and let us in.

  “You’re lucky I’m still here,” she scolded. She bustled to the back room where the dresses were.

  We waited next to a display case with the cigar paraphernalia. While we waited, I spotted the tailor in the back room. He’d removed his jacket and relaxed on a worn chair with a tiny cup of coffee in his hand. At our arrival, he sent a disinterested glance our way before speaking French to the seamstress. She answered him as she passed by with the dresses in protective bags.

  “Here you go,” she said, coming out and setting them on the counter. “Already paid for. Lovely to work with you.”

  I stared at the tailor. Suddenly it felt like this might be the last time I could get my questions answered. “Excuse me, sir. I’m so sorry to bother you, but I have one small question.”

  He lifted an eyebrow at me, annoyed. “Yes? What is it?”

  “The last time we were here, we discussed a tiny hidden pocket we’d discovered in Andy Fitzwater’s jacket. The pocket right about here?” I pointed to where a lapel would be.

  “Yes,” he answered in a bored tone.

  “Did he request that the pocket be put in all of his jackets?”

  The tailor’s brow rumpled, and he took a sip of his drink. Then he replied, “I believe it was just in two.”

  “We’d also wondered about the cigars. But you have this display case here….” I let the question hang unasked.

  “We offer engraved lighters. Precious metal cigar cutters. Humidors and cases. As a matter of fact, we had one made recently for Andy Fitzwater.”

  “Oh, he ordered himself one?”

  “He did not. A woman ordered it. I assume it was a gift.”

  One of his many women then. I struggled not to roll my eyes and instead smiled and thanked him.

  The tailor didn’t leave room for us to ask another question because he stood and walked out of sight.

  “Well, come on,” Mary said to me.

  We headed to the car with the dresses, with the seamstress following behind us. She locked the door practically on our heels.

  “Guess what,” Mary hissed, looping her arm through mine. “Lucy tracked down the Reverend Bay. We’re headed over there right now.”

  “Where are we going?” I asked as Mary popped the trunk. I placed the dresses carefully inside.

  “The clergy house.”

  Finally, maybe we would get some answers. I fastened my seat belt, and Mary nosed the car into the road.

  “We have to hurry,” Lucy said, glancing at her watch. “Marguerite expected us back a half-hour ago.”

  “We’ll blame traffic,” Mary gritted out, teeth clenched.

  “I’m not sure she’ll buy that.” Lucy sighed.

  “Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it,” I said. “Right now, we have this opportunity at hand. Let’s see what the reverend was doing at the train station. Or if he is missing a rosary.”

  We drove the rest of the way in silence, and Mary got us there in record time. None of us wanted to face Marguerite’s wrath.

  Funny enough, Reverend Bay was outside working on his garden when we pulled up. We piled out of the car as he turned to watch us, his hand shielding his eyes from the sun. He waved in a casual, friendly way as we approached. The flowers in his garden shivered in the breeze, the bed covered in red rock.

  “Evening, ladies. What can I do for you?”

  “Hi, Reverend Bay.” Mary smiled. She was always so quick to take the bull by the horns, and so smooth while she did it. “I love your garden. Chrysanthemums?”

  “Lilies, actually. And thank you. My wife brought them with her from her grandparents’ house when we married, and I’ve been babying them ever since.” His grin was so relaxed, I almost felt sorry for the fact we were about to blind-side him.

  “Well, we found something at the house the other night and wondered if you dropped it.”

  “Oh.” His smile immediately fell, replaced by a practiced look of sorrow. “What a terrible night that was for all of us. Especially poor Mrs. Fitzwater.”

  The three of us nodded in agreement.

  “Very tragic,” Lucy responded.

  “Now, what was it that you found?” His eyebrows raised questioningly.

  “It was a rosary,” Mary answered. “We actually saw you earlier but couldn’t catch you in time to ask.”

  He’d started to shake his head as if he denied the rosary was his, but at Mary’s last tagged bit of sentence, he froze.

  He seemed to decide to casually test out the waters. “Really? I wonder where. At the store possibly? Or the post office?”

  “It was the train station, actuall
y.” Mary beamed innocently.

  The reverend’s face drained of color. He glanced down at the clippers in his hand as if trying to give himself time to think of an excuse.

  Mary didn’t let up. “You were talking with someone.”

  His gaze flicked toward hers. He grimaced and finally nodded. “Yes, I was there to meet someone I’d talked with about investing. Unfortunately, I lost a bundle on something that I thought would be a good investment.”

  “Something Andy clued you in on?” I asked.

  He rubbed his neck and glanced at the parish. “Look, this isn’t something I really want to discuss. There are people who wouldn’t understand. The church hasn’t been doing well, and we’ve had to endure cutbacks. It wasn’t a gamble. It was something that would help out my wife, help us all out. I could even give back monetarily to the church. We really needed this.”

  I wanted to ask how much he lost, but I didn’t get the chance. Because, at that very moment, Mary blurted out, “What picture did Andy have of you? Did you get the USB drive?”

  The change in his expression was remarkable. His eyes hardened into slits. “You need to leave, now,” he said. He dropped the shears in the lawn and turned his back to us, stalking up the porch steps. His front door slammed like an exclamation mark, emphasizing his fury.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The rest of the evening we spent cleaning the ballroom with a floor polisher that Miss Janice had rented. We took turns running it over the massive floor while the rest of us focused on the many chandeliers. This required Stephen and his crew to lower them on great chains, where the rest of us cleaned the individual crystals like little bees. Then we would start on the next one. Everything must be perfect for the gala.

  I’d never felt so exhausted by the time I hauled myself to my room that night. My bed looked especially cozy, like pulling a childhood quilt from the dryer and snuggling deep into it. I smiled at my family picture of mom, grandma and me, and blew them a kiss. Then I grabbed my cranberry scented candle to light it. Tonight, I wanted to read with a little ambiance. But not by chandelier light. I never wanted to see another crystal for as long as I lived.

  I struck the match for the candle. It’s weird when you’re exhausted every little effort feels overwhelming. Carefully, I lit my candle.

  Scratching came from the cupboard. My legs felt like a thousand pounds as I climbed out of bed and opened the door. Hank poked his head through, looking decidedly rumpled and obviously not happy that I’d kept the door shut. But, now that I’d been inside those dark walls, I didn’t feel comfortable leaving it open to everything running about in there.

  “Come here, you lil’ fluffy melon.” I picked a cobweb from his tail and scooped him up for a snuggle, and then set him down on my bed. He sniffed the covers before deciding to claim my discarded shirt. Rubbing his cheeks on it, he closed his eyes with a satisfied cat-smile. He then proceeded to knead it, one paw after another. I stroked his head, hoping to encourage him to purr. It was a rare occurrence.

  It was now that I noticed the extra toe. I remembered seeing the print under the house when I picked up the cigar wrapper. I reached for his paw now, and his little toe beans were cold in my palm. “Did you see who left the footprint, Hank? Were you there? Did he see you?”

  He had his eyes closed now. I grabbed my kindle and started to read Wuthering Heights. After a second, I glanced back at Hank. He was asleep, with his wee tongue sticking out. I thought about tickling it, but I just couldn’t disturb him.

  Suddenly, a chilly thought came to mind. I remembered how Hank had been in the room the night that Andy had been murdered. In horror, I’d watched him sniffed Andy’s hand and make a funny face. Was it the cigar smoke he’d detected? Or was it possible that the cigar had been filled with poison? Is that how Andy died?

  Quickly, I texted Mary. —Can we find out if the cigar was poisoned?

  —What are you talking about?

  I realized my question was too out of the blue. —I’ve been thinking about Andy and how he died. I’m wondering if it had to do with the cigar. Is it possible that poison had been added somehow to the tobacco? Injected maybe?

  She answered right away. —You know what, I’m friends with a cousin of one of the detectives. Let me call her and see what she can find out. Hang tight.

  I reached down and scratched Hank’s chin. He responded by stretching out his front paws and moving his head. A moment later, the phone rang. Greedily, I snatched it up.

  Mary began, “So, I don’t have a definite answer. My cousin said they did test it and are waiting on the results. However, the detectives examined it, and there are no marks on the cigar wrapper that show signs of tampering. Right now, they’re still not certain how the poison was administered, but we know what it was. A pesticide used by many businesses. It doesn’t take much, and it’s very deadly.”

  “Well, that’s strangely specific,” I said.

  “Or not. It’s one of those pesticides probably in every janitorial closet.”

  “Wow, that’s scary.”

  “Most people aren’t murderers.”

  I chewed my nail and softly stroked Hank’s paw. He stretched out his toes into a starfish shape. “So what do you think about the Reverend Bay? You think he did it?”

  “He sure freaked out when we asked about the picture Andy could have taken as blackmail, didn’t he?”

  “And the investment that fell through. It seems like a pretty good motive. Who else could have done it?”

  “I’ve been thinking about that,” Mary answered. “What do you think about Madeline’s husband? After all, Andy did destroy their marriage.”

  “And left the poor thing destitute.”

  Mary declared, “I’m going to look him up.” I heard typing. “Okay, I found two articles. One announcing Madeline’s marriage. And another announcing their divorce. Her ex-husband’s name is Bill Flare.” More tapping sounds, and then she gasped. “Guess what! Bill was into investing as well! You have to check this out.”

  She sent me a link, which I clicked. It brought me to a page that said, “partnered with Bill Flare.” And the next link she sent me showed Bill’s petition for bankruptcy.

  “So good ol’ Bill might have had more than one reason to hate Andy,” I said.

  For some reason, that disturbed Hank, who lifted his head and glared at me with one eye. The other side of his face was still smooshed from sleep.

  “Sorry,” I murmured. He yawned, showing a mini lion roar, and snuggled his face into his paw.

  “Well, let’s talk about this more tomorrow. I feel like death after today, and I need to get some sleep.” Mary groaned to emphasize her pain and then said goodbye.

  That was okay with me because I decided I needed a bath to help relax. My muscles were so sore, and I was in the stage beyond tired— the one that wouldn’t let me actually sleep. I grabbed my things and headed to the bathroom where I turned on hot water and added some bubble bath.

  A short while later, I sank into the bath with its mountain of bubbles. They popped around my shoulders like little cold kisses. Then I grabbed my kindle and tried to start reading. But my mind kept spinning.

  So Austin and Andy were good friends and worked at the same place. Clint was another friend of theirs but, despite being a paralegal, did not work with them. How did Bill Flare fit in?

  I rubbed the washcloth down my leg, thinking. Bill possibly knew Austin or Andy. Well, obviously Andy, because that’s who Madeline cheated with. And Clint was connected because he was dating Madeline after Andy. This was just like the love triangle between Catherine, Heathcliff, and Edgar in Wuthering Heights.

  Then there was Reverend Bay. Also caught in a bad investment and with a rosary left behind at the crime scene. I couldn’t believe the cigar didn’t appear to have been tampered with. That seemed like the perfect answer, especially given that I found the cigar wrapper in the tunnel.

  I thought more about Clint. He seemed to be the common denomin
ator of the entire group.

  I climbed out of the tub and toweled off, feeling extremely frustrated despite the warm bath. I knew I had all the answers right in front of me. The problem was what questions did they answer?

  Chapter Twenty

  The next day turned out to be just as exhausting. I stumbled into the kitchen for my fifth cup of coffee after cleaning all morning. I needed every bit of energy I could get to serve at the gala tonight.

  I sank into the chair to rest. My gaze caught little dancing rainbows, and I was enchanted, until I located their source in a little swinging prism in the window. It flashed out colors like confetti made of hope. We probably could all use a bit of that. This gala was starting to feel like it would never end.

  Cook pottered about looking a bit lost because Miss Janice had hired an entire restaurant team to serve the dinner.

  “How are you doing, dear?” she asked, not looking at me at all but staring rather intently at a strange woman using one of her knives.

  “Good. Tired.”

  She glanced at me then. “My goodness. You need to get ready!”

  Before I could respond, Marguerite bustled in. Apparently, my appearance was especially bedraggled because her jaw dropped. “Laura Lee, you feeling okay?”

  I, in turn, felt my mouth drop as well. Marguerite looked absolutely lovely. She wore a sleek black gown with her hair sky high in a bun. Little white flowers decorated it, looking both quaint and sophisticated. But what stunned me the most was that her eyelashes were coated in mascara. I’d never seen her with a speck of makeup before today, and the sight was confusing. She appeared beautiful, looked younger, and at the same time still had that steely glare.

  “What are you grinning like a possum for?” she scowled, obviously not loving the extra attention.