“I dunno. Claw his face so we had his DNA or something.”
“You watch way too much TV, Angela,” my cat scolded as I reached the top step of the stairs, Sophie right behind me.
Sure enough, there were two bedrooms on this level, one on each side of the hallway, and a bathroom at the end of the hall. I crept towards the first bedroom, but it just had a double bed that was still unmade, an empty dresser, and no other furniture. It had to be Tony Nyman’s room.
“This house is depressing,” Sophie murmured into my ear as she looked over my shoulder into the room. I nodded in agreement. It didn’t really look like Tony Nyman had much of a life right now.
We moved to the door of the other room, and instantly knew we’d hit the jackpot. I gasped as I looked into the room.
Nyman had obviously been using it as a study. A big IKEA desk lined one wall, and there was a filing cabinet in the other. But more importantly were the hundreds of sheets of paper on the floor. The whole place had obviously been ransacked. This must have been what the person we’d caught was doing; they were going through all of Nyman’s things to try and find… something. I didn’t know what. But it was way too much of a coincidence; it had to be related to his death.
“Oh man,” Sophie said as she moved past me and into the room.
“Careful,” I warned her. “Don’t touch anything.” I rolled my eyes as Bee walked over all the sheets of paper delicately, as cats do, then settled on an empty piece that had obviously fallen from the printer sitting on a table to the side.
“Yeah, yeah, don’t worry mom, I’m totally not going to get nailed by the cops for this,” Sophie told me, grabbing a piece of tissue and using it to move pieces of paper as she glanced at what they said. I grabbed a tissue of my own and started to do the same.
For around twenty minutes Sophie and I sorted through the papers in silence, the occasional rustle of a sheet the only sound as we were both on high alert for anything out of the ordinary after what had happened.
And I had to be honest: what I’d found was pretty disappointing. There were bank statements showing Nyman had about $50 in his checking account at any given time, and around $400 in a savings account. Not exactly a one percenter.
There were insurance forms – it turned out he had a bad hip – and other generic stuff like old W4s, but nothing explosive. Nothing that would give us any idea why anyone would want to kill him, unless his insurance company decided they really didn’t want to pay for some of his physiotherapy bills anymore.
Eventually I let out a loud sigh.
“This is so stupid. I don’t know about you, but the most interesting thing I’ve found out about Tony Nyman is that he shops on Amazon a lot.”
“Well, that’s still more than I’ve got,” Sophie replied, throwing her hands up in the air. “Let’s face it, whatever the person was here looking for, they either ran off with it, or they never found it. But there’s nothing here that’s going to tell us who killed the dude. Or anything else about him, really.”
“It always sucks when you commit a felony for nothing,” I deadpanned, and Sophie laughed.
“Let’s go back to the vet clinic. The next appointment’s in half an hour, so we don’t really have any more time here anyway.”
“We make a terrible Nancy Drew team.”
“Yeah, we do. But this was only our first idea. We’ll figure something out.”
“Hopefully something a little bit more legal, next time.”
“Hopefully!” Sophie replied, sauntering ahead. Bee jumped on my shoulder as we left the house and headed back for the car. I really had no idea what to do next.
Chapter 9
“You did what?”
Charlotte’s shrill shriek cut through the sound of the TV – I actually looked at the windows, worried they might shatter – and Bee sent a look of pure disdain her way.
“Calm down,” Sophie told her. “It’s not that bad.”
“Not that bad? You committed a felony. You guys could go to jail.” Ok, it had definitely been a good idea not to tell Charlotte what we were going to do before we did it.
“Relax, Char. No one’s going to jail. Well, we’re not, anyway. No one even knows we were there. There are like, four houses on that street, and everyone was at work anyway. No one would have seen us, and we had a good excuse to be in that area.”
When Charlotte had gotten home that afternoon she wanted to know if anything had come up with regards to the murder. Sophie had told her about our little excursion out to Tony’s house, and she wasn’t taking it very well.
“I can’t believe you guys. I can’t believe I’m related to you,” she told me, glaring my way.
“What?” I asked. “Besides, Sophie hasn’t even told you the worst part yet.”
“Oh God, it gets worse?” Charlotte asked, and Sophie and I looked at each other. We had to tell her.
“There was someone already in the house when we got there, who had broken in. He ransacked Tony’s study, and ran out of the house when he heard us.”
“YOU WERE IN THE HOUSE WITH A MURDERER?”
Well, damn. To be honest, I’d never actually thought about it that way. Given the way Sophie looked at me, it was obvious she hadn’t either.
“Whatever, Charlotte. It’s fine. We’re fine. Whoever it was ran out without us seeing them.”
Charlotte collapsed onto the couch and put her head in her hands.
“I can’t believe you guys. I mean, it’s one thing to want to try and find clues about who killed Tony Nyman, but you guys were in a house with a murderer. You could have been killed so easily. Oh my God. I live with crazy people. Full on, batty, crazy people.”
“Oh you’re such a baby,” Sophie told her, collapsing onto the couch next to her. Hearing my stomach growling, I headed towards the kitchen to make dinner. I’d grabbed some focaccia on the way home and was about to make a killer flatbread for dinner.
Sophie joined me in the kitchen and opened a bottle of wine.
“I think we’re all going to need this tonight,” she declared as she poured out three generous glasses. I grabbed one with gusto and took a sip, enjoying the smooth taste of white wine as I swallowed.
“Awwww yeah,” I muttered as I continued on with the cooking.
Charlotte came over and grabbed a glass, then sat at one of the stools by the breakfast bar, watching me cook.
“So,” she started, taking a second sip of wine. “What did you guys find out while you were out breaking the law?”
Sophie and I glanced at each other.
“What? What was that look?” Charlotte asked. “Oh no. You guys didn’t find anything, did you?”
I shook my head. “It turns out Tony Nyman is either the most boring man that ever lived, or whoever was in the house took the important stuff with them.”
“Well, when he was running away did you see him holding anything?” Charlotte asked. I tried to think back, then I shook my head, slowly.
“No. No, I don’t think so. I mean, whoever it was was pretty far away, but I think I would have remembered if they were carrying anything.”
Leave it to Charlotte to think about these things completely rationally.
“So I think we can say whoever was in the house didn’t find what they were looking for,” Charlotte continued.
“Yes. I think we can say that.”
Sophie nodded in agreement.
“I agree. I only even less of a glimpse of the person than Angie did, but I agree with her. I don’t think whoever it was had anything in their hands.”
“So that leaves us with one of two options: either whatever the person was looking for wasn’t there, or it didn’t exist at all.”
I threw some chopped onions into heated olive oil in the pan and mixed them around as they sizzled, sending a delicious aroma wafting through the house. I kept my eye on Bee, who was slowly, subtly trying to make her way towards the kitchen; I knew if I gave her the opportunity she was going to try and s
teal some of our dinner.
“I think whatever someone was looking for, it wasn’t there,” Sophie announced.
“But why?” Charlotte asked.
“I don’t know. Just a gut feeling, I guess. I mean, why else would they go to all that trouble? As you’ve been pointing out religiously, what was done was a felony. Whoever did it could potentially have gone to jail. That means what they were expecting to find must have been important. Otherwise, why risk it at all?”
Charlotte rested her chin in her hand as she thought about Sophie’s words.
“I agree. It seems like a lot of trouble to go to, to rob a place if you didn’t have something specific you were looking for. But then, what could that have been? I mean, we went through the rest of his things, and it didn’t really seem like Tony Nyman had anything out of the ordinary going on in his life.”
“Well maybe that’s the thing, maybe what the person was looking for was the out-of-place thing.”
“But then where would it be?” I asked. Charlotte shrugged.
“Safety deposit box?”
“Maybe. But we’re never going to be able to find out if he had one, let alone get access to it.” Sophie sighed. “This sucks. I thought this would be easier.”
“You always think everything should be easier. I think it’s good for you to have to actually work this mystery through,” Charlotte told her, and Sophie rolled her eyes.
“A minute ago you thought what we did do was the worst thing ever.”
“It was the worst thing ever. But at least it was a thing.”
“Ok, let’s not start this again,” I warned them both. “I think whatever the person was after, it had to do with business or finance or something along those lines.”
“Why do you think that?” Charlotte asked.
“Well, the literal only part of that house that was even touched was the study. And it was completely and totally ransacked. Like, the living room, the kitchen and the bedroom weren’t even touched.”
“Would we have even noticed if it was?” Sophie asked. “The dude lived like a monk, he owned like four pieces of furniture.”
“Well obviously we still would have noticed,” I told Sophie, shooting her a dirty look. “Stop being argumentative just for the hell of it.”
“I’m not!” she argued, and I rolled my eyes.
“I think that’s a good point, though,” Charlotte told me, ignoring the little spat between Sophie and I. “I think you might be onto something Angela.”
“Of course Angie is. She’s Nancy Drew, remember? But what do we do about it?”
“I don’t think there’s anything we can do for now,” I replied. After all, one felony a day was enough, wasn’t it? “I think we should wait for the funeral and go to that. After all, that’s totally allowed.”
“I overheard Portia Ross telling Karen that it’s going to be in two days, it’s just going to be a small thing at the church apparently. I guess seeing his bank account statements and the fact that he didn’t have any family or anyone who cared about him, really, it’ll be something really small.”
“Oh, good, two days from now is Sunday, so the vet clinic will be closed anyway and Charlotte doesn’t have class, so we can all go,” I said.
“Good. Today’s adventure was a total fail, maybe someone at the funeral will give us a clue as to where we should be looking next,” Sophie piped up, excited once more that we had a new, definite plan.
One little setback wasn’t going to stop us.
Chapter 10
The next day I had a half hour break between appointments, and I wandered down the street to Betty’s Café once again. Not only because I absolutely wanted to enjoy a vanilla latte and a slice of pie, but also because I wanted to hear if there was any new gossip in town about Nyman’s death.
Luckily, in a place like Willow Bay, you don’t exactly have to subtly hint that you want information about things. You bring up a topic even vaguely, especially such a major shocker like a murder in town, and people will spill everything they know – or think they know – without even blinking.
“Hey Betty, how are things?” I asked as I walked in and went straight to the counter. A handful of tables were full of people chatting, but they all stopped to look at me when I walked in. Obviously, they had almost certainly been talking about the murder, and I had been the one to find the body.
“Oh you know,” Betty told me, a small smile on her face. “Things are pretty busy here. Tongues are wagging.” She winked at me, and I smiled at her as she took my money and moved over to the coffee machine.
“That sounds about right. Must be good for business.”
“It’s amazing for business, I must admit. Though it would be quite morbid for me to hope for more murder to improve my bottom line.”
“Careful saying things like that, if another body shows up Chief Gary might set his sights on you,” I joked, and Betty laughed.
“Yes, I’ve often thought of myself as the serial killer type,” she told me as she handed me my coffee. I laughed. I’d seen Betty coax spiders into glasses and take them outside so she didn’t have to squash them. The woman had a bigger heart than almost anyone else in Willow Bay. Except maybe Sophie’s mom, Lisa.
“Thanks, Betty,” I told her, sitting down on a stool at the bar. I figured if anyone knew the biggest secrets, it would be Betty. After all, she would have heard all of the biggest secrets from her customers.
“I wonder how Chief Gary is doing with this, though,” I told her. “After all, he told me he’s never had to work a murder before.”
Betty pursed her lips. “I know. He’s been coming in here for coffee more often than usual, and he looks a little bit more… ragged… than before. Poor man. He’s doing his best, and he’s a wonderful small town cop, I hope this doesn’t take it all out of him. But if you ask me, there’s something weird about this murder.”
“Oh, yeah?” I asked, taking a sip of my coffee, trying not to seem overly eager, but still interested.
“I think he was into something he shouldn’t have been. Yesterday, this boy came in, about your age. Said his name was Jason. I’d never seen him before. He sat around, innocently enough, but then he started trying to get into the conversations about Tony. I knew Tony, you know.”
“I didn’t know that, no. What was he like?” I was torn between getting more info about Tony and trying to find out what this Jason wanted to know.
“He was the quiet type. Not a big talker. Very good looking boy though, dark hair, dark eyes and a smile that would have most of the girls in town fawning over him. I know he wasn’t from around here at all, originally. He had more of an east coast way about him, but he wasn’t the type to open up. I asked him once, if he was from out east. He shook his head and said no, but I’m almost certain he was lying to me. I had a feeling he wanted to forget about what he’d been through before, so I dropped the topic.”
“Did he have any friends in town?”
“Not that I knew of. He always came in here alone. And he never really joined in the gossip mill,” Betty added, glancing over at the table in the corner that were busily talking among themselves. I knew from her description that it had to be the same guy I’d seen outside the police station.
“Weird. I wonder why this Jason guy keeps asking about him. I saw him outside the police station when I went and gave my statement that day. He was asking me about the body and stuff. I told him off, and that was that.”
Betty’s eyes narrowed.
“He came in here yesterday, asking for information about Tony. He wanted to know how long he’d lived here for, if he’d ever mentioned having any family, if he had a family now, that sort of thing. I didn’t really tell him anything, told him I didn’t know Nyman. Going by the reactions of other people in here, I don’t think he got what he was after.”
“Strange,” I muttered.
“You know what’s even stranger? It turns out someone broke into Tony’s house yesterday?”
“Yes. Patricia Wilson came back from work yesterday and saw his door was wide open. She called Chief Gary and he told her it was good she called, that someone had been in the place. Apparently it was completely ransacked. If you ask me, I think it was that Jason boy. He’s up to no good, that one. He’s not from here, and he keeps asking about our murder victim. I think he did it,” she added at the end in a conspiratorial whisper.
I mulled over her words as I took another sip of coffee.
Of course, Betty thinking Jason Black was guilty wasn’t exactly catching him red-handed, but I thought it was interesting that he was hanging around and asking questions. After all, where did he come from? Why was he hanging around asking about Tony? And if he did really kill him, why was he hanging around town now?
As I left the coffee shop and went back to work, it felt like I had more questions than when I walked in.
Chapter 11
The morning of Tony Nyman’s funeral wasn’t pretty.
For one thing, Charlotte, Angela and I had stayed up way too late on Saturday night, drinking wine and margaritas and going through possible murder suspects that got more and more insane until finally we were convinced that it was Jon Bon Jovi who had done it.
Not long after that, we all passed out. That was probably a good thing.
I woke up in the morning groaning, bemoaning the fact that I was no longer eighteen years old and that five margaritas and most of a bottle of wine wasn’t something I could pull off pain-free anymore.
Stumbling to the bathroom to grab some aspirin I ran into Sophie, who looked just as bad as I did.
“Don’t talk. Don’t say anything,” Sophie whispered to me. I nodded, squinting against the bright light flowing in from the outside and made my way back to bed, clutching my pill bottle to my body like it was the most precious thing I owned.
Three hours later I was feeling a little bit better. We made Charlotte get us McDonalds, since being the youngest of the three of us – and also the lightest drinker – she was in way better shape to go outside than Sophie and I. With some apple juice, hashbrowns and hot cakes in me, I felt a lot better, and by the time we had to leave for the funeral, I was almost back to normal.
The Purr-fect Crime: Willow Bay Witches #1 Page 5