The Very Killer Caterpillar (A Paranormal Cozy Mystery) (Magical Bookshop Mystery Book 3)

by Samantha Silver

  “I really don’t need to put the second book on for you, I can always find you something else.”

  “No, no, I may as well finish the story now that I’ve started.”

  “Fine,” I said, hiding a smile. I went into the small storeroom at the back of the bookshop and put Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets on the iPad, then went back out into the store to open up for the day. Who knew ghosts could be so cranky?

  About fifteen minutes after opening the store Cat came in, carrying a cupcake–s’mores, one of my favorites–and a vanilla latte which I eagerly accepted.

  “So, I was at the college this morning,” Cat started. “And I have a plan for us to get a read on one of the professors.”

  “Oh yeah?” I asked, sitting on one of the chairs I had spread out around the store. Cat sat down on one of the others–Muffin, the cat, was already sleeping on the beanbag chair.

  “Yes. I went online this morning and found out a bunch of information about Professor Little’s classes and schedule. For one thing, she has office hours every Tuesday from four to five.”

  “Oh, that’s today.”

  “Exactly. I figure since you close at four, we should head down there straight away when you’re done and have a chat with her.”

  “But what on earth would we talk about? I mean, we’re not actually in her classes, and it’s not going to be that subtle if we just ask her if she happened to travel to Brazil recently.”

  Cat reached into her tote bag and pulled out a giant book, handing it to me.

  Insect Evolution Worldwide the book read. I raised my eyebrows at Cat.

  “I checked that out of the college library. She teaches a course called Insect Diversity and Evolution this semester. I figured we pretend to be in it, and then we can ask some questions and see what happens.”

  “What if she asks us questions?” I asked.

  “Well that’s why I’m giving you the book now. Study up,” Cat said with a wink, getting up off her chair. “I found Professor Little’s website, they’re currently reading chapter four.”

  “Gee, thanks,” I said.

  “Hey, I came up with the idea, that means you have to do the legwork,” Cat replied. “Besides, my store is busier than yours.”

  “You have employees! But fine, I’ll read it.”

  “Good,” Cat grinned. “Hopefully she won’t test us too much anyway.”

  “I’ll see you this afternoon!”

  Cat waved goodbye and left, and I opened the book and had a look at Chapter four, which was all about the origin of insect flight in an evolutionary sense. Not exactly the most thrilling topic I’d ever heard of, but hey, at least I had my coffee.

  I read the chapter a few times over, and by the time four o’clock came around I felt confident that I could probably bluff my way through at least pretending to be in the class. At least, I hoped I could.

  Chapter 6

  When Cat and I walked through the doors to the campus that afternoon, however, we ran into one person we didn’t expect: Chase Griffin, who was still limping slightly.

  “Oh hello, fancy seeing you here,” he said, raising his eyebrows.

  “How’s the knee?” I asked, genuinely concerned.

  “It’s fine,” Chase replied, looking at us suspiciously. “And what, may I ask, are the two of you doing at the college tonight?”

  “Oh, we’re here for the mayoral debate,” I answered easily. “It starts at six, right?”

  “Well, you’re very early for it, then,” Chase said.

  “We heard the coffee at the shop in the library is really good,” Cat offered. “I have to keep tabs on the competition in town, so we thought we’d come down a bit early.”

  “Besides, the debate was last night.”

  I looked at Cat and we both put a stunned look on our face. “Oh, really? Shoot. How did we get the date wrong?” I asked.

  “Are you sure?” Cat said, and Chase nodded.

  “I am sure. It was pretty eventful. I’m surprised you didn’t hear about it today at the coffee shop.” Great. There was no way he was buying our story. But on the bright side, I was pretty sure he couldn’t actually prove we were lying.

  “I spent most of the day in the kitchen today,” Cat said. “Didn’t get involved in the gossip at all.”

  “Same here, the bookshop isn’t exactly gossip central,” I said. “Do you know how the caterpillar got into the apartment?”

  Chase’s eyes narrowed. “I can’t speak about an open investigation. However, what I can say is that someone was seen entering Mr. Gordon’s apartment yesterday morning, around nine. The person didn’t think anything of it at the time, but came forward after hearing about the death. We’re asking anyone who knows anything to come forward. We have reason to believe that person left the caterpillar in the apartment then.”

  “Hmm, interesting. Do they know who it was?”

  Chase shrugged. “Only that they think he was male, but aren’t completely sure, they didn’t get a good look at all.”

  “We’ll keep our ears open and let you know if we hear anything,” Cat assured Chase.

  “All right. Well, I do need to warn you ladies, stay away from the murder investigation.”

  Cat’s eyes widened. “We wouldn’t dream of it.”

  “Of course you wouldn’t. All right, I’ll see you ladies around.”

  “Definitely,” I said, trying not to sound overly enthusiastic.

  “Do you think he bought it?” I asked.

  “Not a chance,” Cat said. “We’d better actually go to the coffee shop and buy something in case he decides to make sure we’re not doing any investigating.”

  As a result of our coffee stop, by the time we got to Professor Little’s office for office hours, there were a handful of students outside her office waiting for their turn. A tall, decently good looking brunette was standing by the wall on his own, his eyes closed. A brunette and a redhead were both looking through the same book, and a couple of guys were sharing a pair of headphones while they watched what was apparently a funny video on one of their phones.

  None of them seemed particularly open to a random conversation with strangers, so Cat and I sat down and played with our phone while we waited for the line to drop.

  Finally, when there was only us and the tall brunette left, and the brunette and redhead came back out, he motioned for us to go in. I noticed he had a small, barely noticeable scar above one eye.

  “You two go ahead,” he said. “I’m not in a rush.”

  “Thanks,” I replied, and we walked into Professor Little’s office. She was sitting behind a large oak desk, with all kinds of biological specimens in jars, charts and pictures adorning the walls rather than the traditional framed diplomas and certificates.

  Annette Little herself had a smaller frame than I expected; she was standing up when we entered, getting something from a file cabinet, and she couldn’t have been taller than five feet four inches. She was thin, with blonde hair and an impish smile that showed off some dimples when she flashed it at us in greeting. While she was dressed rather conservatively, in black pants and a white blouse, a few colorful ribbons were wrapped around her wrist, giving her a slightly more casual look.

  “Please, have a seat,” she said. “I’ll be with you in just a moment.”

  When she sat down in front of us a few minutes later, she gave us her full attention.

  “So, what can I do for you ladies today?”

  “We’re in your Insect Diversity and Evolution class,” I told her. “And I just had a couple of questions about some things that were written in the book.”

  “Of course,” she said.

  “Specifically, I’m wondering about caterpillars, and how they’re classified. Because while they obviously don’t have wings themselves, they eventually turn into butterflies. I’m just wondering how they’re treated from a classification point of view.”

  “Sure,” the professor replied. “Caterpillars are sti
ll members of the order Lepidoptera, which is the order classification for butterflies and moths. They’re simply considered the larval stage of the eventual butterfly. So for example, a monarch butterfly has the same classification as a monarch caterpillar: Kingdom Animalia, Phylum Arthropoda, Class Insecta, Order Lepidoptera, Family Nymphalidae, Genus Danaus and Species Danaus Plexippus.”

  I nodded. “Ok,” I said, before looking into the notes I’d come up with and asking a few more questions. Professor Little was kind about all of them, despite the fact that I was sure they were really basic questions that no real student would have ever had.

  “Thanks for all your help,” Cat said, standing up when I was finished asking my questions.

  Suddenly I had a flash of inspiration. “By the way, did you happen to go to the Mayoral candidate’s meeting here last night?” I asked. “I heard it was pretty exciting.”

  Professor Little smiled. “Sadly, no. I had classes at the Portland campus all day, so I didn’t come up here at all. And since I don’t live in Sapphire Village I can’t vote here regardless. But I did have some of the best Italian food of my life instead,” she added with a grin.

  Shoot. I made a mental note to find Professor Little’s schedule, but if she was teaching in Portland at the same time as the caterpillar was left in the office, that was a pretty good alibi.

  “Ooh, I’m always on the lookout for good Italian,” Cat said. “Where did you go?”

  “Ciampini, downtown,” she replied with a smile. “I highly recommend the pesto cream tortellini.”

  “Thanks, professor. See you soon,” I said as we stood up and left.

  “Well that’s going to suck if it turns out she has an airtight alibi,” Cat muttered as we went down the hall. I turned back and saw the guy still waiting outside enter the office and I frowned.

  “Absolutely. Where do you think we can find her class schedule?”

  “Oh that’s easy,” Cat said. “We’ll just call the administrative offices tomorrow during business hours and find out. But for now, how do you feel about Italian food?”

  “Like you even need to ask. Let’s go pick up Peaches; she might hate politics but I know for a fact she loves pizza.”

  A couple hours later the three of us were being seated at Ciampini, a cute little hole-in-the-wall Italian restaurant in downtown Portland. Even though it was almost eight-thirty on a Tuesday by the time we got there, almost all the tables were completely packed, and I made a mental note that if I was ever going to come here again I’d need to make a reservation. There were only about a dozen tables in the whole restaurant, three more if you counted the small double tables out on the sidewalk.

  When our waitress came by the table I ordered the bacon carbonara, while Peaches and Cat ordered a pizza to share.

  The service was quick, and the food was just as delicious as Professor Little had made out.

  “You know, if I had the option of watching Denise Williams make a fool of herself or eating here again, I can’t guarantee I’d go to the debate,” Cat said, and I nodded.

  “Yeah, this tastes exactly like how I imagine pasta tastes in Rome,” I said. “I can see why it was so packed.

  “Keep talking you two, it gives me the time to eat more of the pizza,” Peaches added.

  We laughed and chatted idly during the meal. By the time we were finished, it was late enough that most of the other patrons had left, and the waitress, a girl named Cassandra, looked far less harried. We took advantage of the fact to ask her about Professor Little.

  “Excuse me,” I asked her as she walked past our table. “Did you happen to see this woman here yesterday?” I held up my phone, where I’d opened Professor Little’s college profile page once more.

  “Oh, yeah, her,” she nodded. “Yes, she was here. Along with her boyfriend.”

  “Her boyfriend?” Cat asked, and Cassandra nodded.

  “Yes. He was younger than her. Tall, brown hair, a small scar above his eye. But he was definitely her boyfriend.”

  “How was she acting?” I asked. “Did she seem normal to you?”

  “Well yeah, as normal as someone you don’t know can seem, I guess. The only weird thing was she tried to order them both a pizza marinara, but he insisted that she change it to something else. They ended up sharing a Capriccioca. He was very insistent, and pretty intense, which was weird because I got the feeling she was the dominant one in the relationship. After all, it’s rare that the woman orders for both people. But I mean, I could have been wrong. After all, it’s not like I knew them well, they were just normal customers that have been here maybe twice.” Cassandra shrugged. “They certainly were about as normal as I could have expected.”

  “Thanks,” I told her with a smile, making a note to leave a large tip.

  As soon as she left, the three of us began to talk.

  “So, it was that guy we saw outside her class,” Cat said.

  “Which guy?” Peaches asked.

  “There was a guy waiting for Professor Little,” I explained. “He let us cut in front of him and go see her before he went in. We thought he was just being nice, but it sounds like he’s involved with her.”

  “Ooh, scandalous. I wonder if the college knows she’s banging one of her students.”

  “Well, we don’t know that he’s a student,” I said. “At least, we don’t know he’s one of hers. He looked young enough to be in college, for sure, but maybe he’s in a different faculty or something. There wouldn’t be anything wrong with that, after all.”

  “Besides, none of this has anything to do with the potential murderer, which is the reason we came here,” Peaches said. “We’re just gossiping about her personal life because, well, it’s more interesting than ours,” Peaches said.

  “Hey, that’s not fair, I almost killed a guy skiing yesterday!” I argued, but I knew Peaches was right. “But fine. The waitress did say that she was acting normally. That doesn’t scream murderer to me.”

  “Yeah,” Cat said. “I think if we can confirm that she was, in fact, teaching in Portland the day of the murder we can officially eliminate Professor Little from our investigation.”

  “Don’t you have another professor to look at as well?” Peaches asked, and I nodded.

  “Yes, Professor Gilmore. He’s also a biology teacher who was looking to become the Dean of Sciences at the college, but the two girls didn’t think he was the type to murder someone.”

  “If the last couple of weeks have taught us anything, it’s that there’s no ‘type’ of person who kills anyone,” Peaches replied. “We definitely need to look into him as well.”

  “Good point,” Cat nodded.

  “Fine, but I’m not reading through a whole giant textbook a second time. I know more about insect wings than will ever be useful in life,” I said, making Peaches laugh.

  Chapter 7

  The mood in the car on the way back to Sapphire Village was pretty despondent. After all, we’d just eliminated one of our main suspects in the case. But on the other hand, it meant we were down to just one Professor with good reason to kill Professor Gordon.

  When we got back home, the Harry Potter audiobook had ended, with Archibald nowhere to be seen. I briefly wondered if he had gone to find other ghosts to complain about Harry Potter with, and hoped I wasn’t going to find myself in the morning with an army of ghosts angry about the negative ghost stereotypes in a children’s fiction book.

  The next morning started off fairly uneventful. I went down the street to grab a quick breakfast burrito, opened the bookstore, and sat and waited while eating my breakfast–feeding little bits of bacon to Muffin, who seemed to have this magical ability to know exactly when to wake up and maximize his ‘begging for human food’ time.

  For a couple of hours, I helped out customers–two wanted something special for themselves, and one was looking for a birthday gift for a mother who loved older poetry. Finally, around noon, Peaches made her way down.

  “How are things going h
ere?” she asked.

  “Good,” I replied. “How’s the art world treating you?”

  Peaches frowned. “I’m finding that I’m not getting a ton of inspiration here. I mean, not to be mean to Aunt Francine’s old apartment, but it’s not exactly exciting.”

  “You take that back!” Aunt Francine’s ghost cried out, appearing out of nowhere. I bit my lip to hold back a laugh as Peaches jumped about a foot in the air. Aunt Francine, with her red hair, looked exactly how I expected I would look in thirty years, if I put on a hundred pounds. Of course, since she was now a ghost, she was half transparent, but the family resemblance remained unmistakable.

  “Sorry, Aunt Francine,” Peaches squealed as the ghost let out a hearty laugh. “Oh, dearie me that was fun. I’m going to haunt the rest of the magical community here. Especially Ernest Forsyth, that pompous, up himself, full of—”

  “We get it, Aunt Francine,” I interrupted with a smile. “And trust me, I’m all in favor of haunting Ernest Forsyth. Please don’t tell Archibald though, he’s being pretty sensitive right now about haunting and ghost stereotypes.”

  “Oh, all that drivel about Harry Potter? He was going on about it a couple of nights ago, so I left. Anyway, we’re getting off topic. My apartment is perfect the way it is, and I won’t hear either of you besmirching its good name.”

  “Of course not, but you have to admit, it’s not exactly the most inspiring place.”

  “It’s not meant to be inspiring, it’s meant to be a functional living space.”

  “And it does that very well. But I’m an artist, Francine. I need something to inspire me.”

  “Well, I suppose I can understand the beige walls not doing that.”

  “I’m going to head down to the lake, and then grab something for lunch. Do you want anything?” she asked me.

  “Ohhh, yes please!” I said.

  “Get something from the Greek place. It always smelled so nice and my goodness do I ever miss eating,” Francine said. “It’s the worst part about being dead, so now I have to do it vicariously.”