Copycat Killing: A Magical Cats Mystery

by Sofie Kelly

  I squinted at the cramped, spidery writing. The name looked like Gerald Sherriff. Ray had said that Jaeger had given up on faking the Coca-Cola Santa for something else. Maybe Gerald Sherriff was connected somehow. Marcus would say, “Leave it alone,” but I couldn’t. I knew Maggie wouldn’t relax until she knew for sure what Jaeger had been up to.

  I turned to the computer and typed the name in a search engine. Nothing. I couldn’t find a Gerald Sherriff connected with the art world or any kind of scam.

  I frowned at the scrap of paper. Maybe it was meaningless. Maybe Owen had picked it up because it smelled like tuna to him, not because it was some clue that would solve the Jaeger Merrill/Christian Ellis mystery. He was just a cat after all. Okay, a cat with some pretty good sleuthing skills that I was probably never going to be able to explain, but in the end just ten pounds of furry feline with fish breath and lots of attitude.

  Mary came over with an empty book cart. She glanced at the corner of paper on the desk. “Who’s Carroll Stennett?” she asked. “The name’s familiar.”

  “That doesn’t say Carroll Stennett,” I said. “It says Gerald Sherriff.”

  Mary shook her head at me. “I may need glasses, but I can see. Whoever that is writes like my mother did. I think it’s some style of penmanship they used to teach in school. Look.” She pointed to the first letter in the name. “That’s a C not a G, and that’s an L at the end, not a D.”

  I held the piece of paper up to the light. The shakiness of the writing made it hard to distinguish the letters, but now that she’d pointed it out, I could see she was right about the C and the L.

  “Mary, you’re a genius,” I said.

  She patted her gray curls. “I know. It’s a curse sometimes.” She exchanged the empty cart for a full one and went back to the stacks.

  I typed Carroll Stennett into the search engine box. It took a while to find the connection and I probably would have missed it altogether if the source of the story hadn’t been the Mayville Heights Chronicle. I leaned back in the chair and reread the article on my screen.

  Carroll Stennett had lived and died—about a year and a half ago—in the house he’d been born in, the old family homestead out near Wild Rose Bluff. He had no close family other than a great-nephew by marriage. An eccentric, reclusive old man, most people figured he barely had two cents to rub together. Of course they were wrong. He owned all the land around his run-down farm—several hundred acres—and had a stash of government bonds in a safe deposit box. The bonds had been left to a church-run summer camp for underprivileged kids. The land had been left to the great-nephew.

  Peter Lundgren.

  Peter, who had kept Jaeger Merrill’s secret about who he really was.

  Peter, who had jumped in to help Maggie after Jaeger’s death.

  Both Maggie and Ruby had said the reason Jaeger had been successful as a forger for so long was his ability to forge the provenance for his artwork—the documents that provided their authenticity.

  He’d forged a letter for Ray. Was it possible that Jaeger had created a document for Peter too?

  I looked at my left hand. I’d needed only a small bandage this morning on the place where I’d torn the skin on the basement railing at the co-op. I thought about the bandage I’d seen on Peter’s hand. He said he’d fallen in his office’s parking lot.

  That’s what he said.

  Was I wrong? I wanted to be. Peter had been advising Ruby about the money she was inheriting from Agatha Shepherd. He’d even uncovered a piece of evidence in the case against Agatha’s killer. And he was helping three of his younger siblings get an education. Then I thought of what Roma had said about her mother’s stories about Tom: They always made him out to be a little bit too good to be true.

  Like Peter.

  I pulled a hand back through my hair. I remembered Jaeger’s body, mostly submerged in the cold, filthy water in the co-op basement. What if…what if that hadn’t been an accident? What if…someone…had pushed him down those stairs or held him under the water. Whatever Jaeger had done, he didn’t deserve that.

  I’d told Maggie I didn’t believe Ray had pushed Jaeger, but could Peter have done it? The problem was, I didn’t have any real proof tying Peter to anything illegal, just a piece of paper my cat had found in the hall outside Maggie’s studio. Even Erle Stanley Gardner and Perry Mason couldn’t make a case with that.

  I could call Marcus and tell him what I suspected. Would he take me seriously with no evidence?

  Or I could call Peter and try to find out a little more about his relationship with the dead artist. What would be the harm in that?

  I looked at the phone. I looked at the piece of paper on the desk in front of me. For a moment I thought about deciding the way we used to resolve things when I was eight: one potato, two potato, three potato, four.

  I exhaled slowly and then I reached for the phone.

  35

  Peter showed up at the library at exactly quarter after eight. Right on time. I unlocked the front door and let him in, locking it behind him again because I didn’t want anyone wandering in and interrupting us.

  My heart was pounding and my palms were sweaty. I wasn’t so sure this was a good idea anymore. I could hear my mother’s voice in my head telling me to act confident even if I didn’t feel it, although she probably would have rescinded the advice if she’d known how I was using it.

  Peter faced me, hands in his pockets, his back to the checkout desk. “Okay, Kathleen,” he said. “You said on the phone that you have proof that Christian—Jaeger’s death wasn’t an accident.”

  I nodded.

  “And you said you didn’t want to go to the police.”

  “I don’t,” I said.

  He shifted restlessly from one foot to the other. “Are we going to keep playing games or are you going to tell me why you called me? I assume you want legal advice.”

  I tucked my hair back behind one ear with a gesture that I hope looked smooth and unconcerned. “Actually what I want is two hundred and fifty thousand dollars,” I said.

  His mouth twisted in something that looked like a smile but wasn’t. “Excuse me?”

  “Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars,” I repeated and my voice didn’t quaver at all.

  He shook his head and pulled his keys out of his pocket. “I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing Kathleen, but I don’t have time for this.”

  I held up a crumpled corner of paper. “You probably can’t read this because the writing is so small and it’s not really that easy to read even if you’re up close to it, so I’ll just tell you that it says Carroll Stennett.”

  I made a show of looking at the writing and then I turned the paper so it faced him again. “Actually it says Carroll Stennett, Carroll Stennett, Carroll Stennett, Carroll Stennett and Carroll Stennett to be exact.”

  He was unfazed. Nothing changed in his demeanor or expression or even his voice. “So?” he said.

  “So Carroll Stennett was your great-uncle. He left you a lot of land in his will.” I crossed my free arm over my chest.

  “Yes, he did.”

  I smiled, hoping it didn’t look as fake as it felt. “A handwritten will that Jaeger Merrill—or Christian Ellis if you prefer—forged.”

  Peter smiled back at me. It wasn’t warm and it wasn’t real. “Really? Was this will an oil painting or did he make it out of old gears and broken spoons?”

  “Funny,” I said. I let the hand holding the scrap of paper drop. “Jaeger created the provenance—all the various documents—that proved the authenticity of the artwork he forged. You knew that. You were his lawyer. Creating a handwritten will was a challenge, but one he was up to, especially since you could provide him with writing samples.”

  He looked around the empty library and then focused his attention back on me. “And you figured all this out from a scrap of paper with my uncle’s name on it?”

  I checked the bit of paper again and then put it in my pocket
. “Pretty much. That and the fact that Jaeger put his portfolio and the puzzle box he made in with some of Maggie’s things. You must have been furious when Maggie called Marcus Gordon instead of you when she found them. They were his insurance policy.”

  Peter crossed his arms casually over his chest. “An insurance policy? Because…?”

  I felt like I’d swallowed the metal kettle ball Maggie liked to work out with. “Because Jaeger was blackmailing you. He didn’t trust you. He knew it didn’t matter what their differences were, if something happened to him, Maggie would take those things to the police.”

  “If that were true, wouldn’t the police have come to talk to me by now?” he asked. He seemed so at ease standing there and I couldn’t help noticing how much bigger he was than me.

  “They’re missing the most important piece,” I said, reaching into my other pocket and pulling out the cap to a fountain pen. “This is part of the pen Jaeger used to make that will for you. The other part was in the puzzle box. The police will be able to compare it and the ink inside to the handwriting of the will. Once they know they should look at the will.”

  Peter’s jaw tightened. “What do you want?”

  “I told you,” I said. “Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars.”

  “I don’t have two hundred and fifty thousand dollars.”

  I put my hand back in my pocket. “You can get it.”

  “I could,” he said.

  Something had changed in his voice and his body language. He took a step toward me and I automatically took a step backward, glancing over my shoulder as I did.

  “Detective Gordon’s not coming,” he said.

  My mouth went dry. “I uh, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I stammered.

  “Now that’s a lie,” Peter said, shaking his head. “You tried to set me up, Kathleen. You thought I was stupid enough to fall for this little Miss Marple subterfuge.”

  “Where’s Marcus?” I said. My voice shook and so did my hands still jammed in my pockets.

  Peter looked at his watch. “Larry Taylor’s pretty good with his hands. He got that old pump working over at the co-op. The thing about that gas powered motor is it needs lots of ventilation.”

  Both my hands were squeezed into tight fists. I needed to stay focused and keep him talking. “You did something to that…that pump. Is Marcus there? Is Maggie?”

  “Maggie is in her studio. I just talked to her. As for Detective Gordon, I’ll stipulate that we’re not going to see him.” He took another step toward me.

  I knew if I tried to bolt for the door he’d grab me. “Why did you kill Jaeger?” I asked. “Was he blackmailing you?”

  Peter held out both hands. “Classic mystery moment,” he said. “The detective gathers all the usual suspects in the library and then unmasks the killer. I’ll give you points for the setting, but the detective isn’t coming. And I’m not answering any of your questions.”

  He came at me then, but I was ready for him. I’d been watching his feet out of the corner of my eye. I darted left.

  “You’re wasting your time, Kathleen,” he said. “You’re wasting mine.”

  The computer area was more or less behind me and the stacks were to the right. Peter probably figured he had me trapped but this was my library. I knew what I was doing and I was mad.

  “You ran me off the road the other night,” I said.

  “Did I?” he said. One eyebrow went up. He took a step toward me.

  I took a step back. “Stop playing lawyer,” I said. “You killed Jaeger. You pushed him down the stairs, he hit his head and you left him there to drown. What did you do? Swipe Ruby’s keys to the store?”

  He gave a snort of laughter. “Speculation.”

  “Fact. You didn’t hurt your hand in the parking lot at your office. You did that on the railing of the basement steps at the co-op.” I held up my hand. “Same as I did. Same as Jaeger did when he grabbed for the railing to save himself. Except my cut got cleaned out twice. I bet there’s little bits of wood still in yours. Evidence.”

  “Shut up,” he said.

  I took a step sideways and back. “Jaeger was blackmailing you. I think you found out he was forging more than just that will for you. You knew he’d get caught again and you weren’t going down with him.” I laughed. “You showed up. He put the evidence against you in one of Maggie’s boxes. Pretty smart.”

  “Christian was an idiot,” Peter said. “A spoiled little pissant who’d never done a decent day’s work in his life. He couldn’t swim, you know. And for the record, I didn’t push him. I just didn’t pull him out.”

  He lunged at me, and this time I wasn’t fast enough. He grabbed me, turning me around with his arm tight against my neck, slowly cutting off my air supply. I struggled to catch my breath.

  Marcus came out from behind the new shelving unit. “Let her go,” he ordered.

  Little pinpricks of light were swirling around the edge of my vision but I knew I had to take advantage of Peter’s surprise. I drove the heel of my right hand up and back with as much force as I could. It made very satisfying contact with Peter’s nose. He sucked in a wet breath and I twisted free from his grasp. Marcus grabbed my arm and pulled me back against him as Derek Craig came around the other side of the shelves.

  I smiled up at Marcus and felt for the tiny, wireless transmitter under the V-neck of my sweater. “What took you so long?” I wheezed.

  36

  Marcus drove me over to Eric’s Place where Maggie was waiting. “Is your throat all right?” he asked.

  I pulled down the visor and looked in the little mirror on the backside. There was a wide red mark on my neck, even though Peter had had hold of me for only a few seconds.

  My throat felt a little raw, as if I’d been talking too much. “I’m okay,” I said. “It’s nothing that a cup of Eric’s coffee won’t fix.”

  “I can’t believe I agreed to that,” Marcus said as we pulled up to the café.

  “Neither can I,” I said, unfastening my seat belt.

  “I’m glad you’re not hurt.”

  “Do you think I broke Peter’s nose?” I asked. It had been bleeding heavily onto an old but clean towel I’d found in the staff room.

  “Don’t worry about it. I don’t think you did.” He gave me a knowing look. “Unless, you wanted to.”

  “No comment.”

  He laughed. “You’re a pretty good actor.”

  “I liked working with you,” I said, smiling up at him.

  “So did I,” he said.

  We stood there on the sidewalk, having a little moment. I don’t know how long it would have lasted except I started to cough. My throat was dry, probably more from fear and all the talking I’d been doing than from anything Peter had done to me.

  “You need to sit down and have something hot to drink,” Marcus said.

  He led the way inside. Maggie was at the counter talking to Eric. She came right over to us.

  “You all right?” she asked.

  I nodded.

  “Go sit down,” Marcus said. “I’ll get you some coffee.”

  Maggie led the way to a table by the end wall where her tea was waiting. “What happened to your neck?” she asked, squinting at me across the table.

  I touched my throat. “Peter grabbed me,” I said. “I bloodied his nose.”

  “Is it broken?” she asked.

  I shook my head. “Marcus doesn’t think so. Am I a bad person because part of me hopes it is?”

  “After what he did and what he tried to do? No.”

  Marcus came over to the table then with a mug for me, and a take-out cup for himself. “I have to get to the station. I’ll call you later.”

  “All right,” I said, taking the cup from him and wrapping my hands around it. “Is it all right to go back to the library?”

  He shook his head. “No. Not tonight. Have your coffee. Go home.” He looked at Maggie. “Keep her out of trouble,” he said.

&nb
sp; She rolled her eyes. “Of course,” she said. “That always goes so well.”

  He laid a hand on my shoulder. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

  “I’m glad you’re okay too,” I said. I watched him walk out and cross the sidewalk to his SUV.

  When I looked at Maggie her head was tipped to one side and she had an aw-shucks grin on her face. “You two are just so cute,” she said.

  I set my cup on the table and reached for the sugar. “I’m ignoring you,” I said.

  She laughed and leaned back in her chair. Then her face turned serious. “I can’t believe Peter killed Jaeger.”

  “I’m not defending him. But I think he acted in the heat of the moment.”

  “Peter never struck me as someone who did anything in the heat of the moment,” Maggie said.

  “Getting Jaeger to forge that will was stupid,” I said, adding cream and stirring my coffee.

  “So why did he do it?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe he got tired of being the good guy and getting nothing for it, kind of like Ray.” I leaned my forearms on the table. “Peter took care of that great-uncle for years, but the only other will Marcus could track down left everything to some distant cousin’s kids. Peter was only related by marriage and for some people ‘blood’ is everything.”

  “So you don’t think he planned to kill Jaeger?” Maggie lifted the lid of her little teapot and then looked around for Claire who nodded and held up one finger.

  “No. But it’s clear Jaeger didn’t trust him. I think that’s why he put his things in your box.”

  “Just in case.”

  Claire came over with the hot water and refilled Maggie’s tea. “Could I get you anything else?” she asked. “Eric has a great beef stew.”

  “Yes!” Maggie and I answered at the same time.

  Claire smiled. “Just give me a couple of minutes.”

  Maggie poked the tea bag with her spoon and then poured another cup. “So you figured you asking Peter to meet you at the library was going to raise his suspicions?”

  I took a sip of my coffee and nodded. “I did. Plus Marcus didn’t think my getting forced off the road was an accident. If Peter was Jaeger’s killer, then it made sense he might be trying to scare me, considering I was asking questions about Jaeger and what he’d been doing.”