by Lyn Key
“Maybe I’m tired, or you’re speaking in riddles, but I don’t have the foggiest notion of what you’re talking about,” Cammie said.
Nozy Cat sneaked back his forepaw and loosened the drawstring top to her denim handbag because he was by nature an inquisitive feline. He poked around inside the denim handbag and inspected its contents without her detecting him. His cat eyes could see in the dark what she carried inside it. What he ran across jolted his little cat heart to pitter-patter a lot faster.
Um, Hope, I hate to be a nag. However, something has come up I think you should know about right this instant.
Hope glanced at him. “Not right now,” she murmured. “Can’t you see I’m busy doing this?”
Sorry to say, I’m afraid this matter can’t wait.
“We’ll have to take it up later,” she murmured. “I’m in the middle of something.”
No, like the dead body I found at the bookshop, this discovery also requires your immediate attention.
“Okay, what is it that’s so urgent?” she murmured.
Cammie has a gat.
“It’s pronounced gout, not gat,” Hope murmured. “So what if she does?”
Nozy Cat closed his eyes while shaking his head. Hope, sometimes you are utterly hopeless. What I mean to say is Cammie has a handgun tucked inside her denim handbag there on the seat beside her.
Hope’s pulse skittered over a few beats. “That’s a lot different and changes the situation,” she murmured.
I’ll check out her handgun. Meantime, you do your part and keep her distracted.
“Make sure its safety is on,” Hope murmured.
What’s a safety?
“Geez oh Pete, why did I take on a cat for a partner?” Hope murmured. “We’re in trouble from the start.”
Cammie chuckled. “What are you muttering to your cat?” she asked. “Did he get over his nervous tic with his mouth?” She chuckled again.
Nozy Cat swished his long tail back and forth. Hang on. We’re just about to have the last laugh on you.
“Never mind about him,” Hope said.
“Then what are you claiming you know about me?” Cammie asked.
“We know you murdered Hugo Spangler,” Hope replied. “Then you dragged his dead body from your car parked in the alley through the rear exit into the bookshop and left him in the poetry section. The next morning after I came into the bookshop I found him there.”
“I did no such terrible thing,” the indignant Cammie said. “I resent your making the accusation.”
“You did it and moreover we can prove it,” Hope said.
“Oh, yeah? Then where is your so-called proof?” Cammie asked.
“We use several covert surveillance cameras,” Hope replied. “You probably didn’t notice them in the ceiling, but they caught you red-handed in the act, and it’s documented on film. We have the film.”
“Are you starting to see the picture we’re drawing for you?” Peggy Sue asked.
“You’re trying to scam me with your flimsy accusation,” Cammie replied as she snaked her hand toward the opening of her denim handbag. “Nobody but a natural born fool would go to the expense of installing surveillance cameras just to guard a bunch of dog-eared paperbacks.”
“The previous tenant of the rented commercial space who ran an upscale electronics store put in the surveillance cameras,” Hope said. “We kept them in place after we signed the lease with our landlord Gus.”
“Did you now?” Cammie said. “Then why did I allegedly murder Hugo? We’d broken up and parted ways, and I no longer cared anything about him. As a matter of fact, I have a date this Saturday night to go line dancing.”
“You felt enough bitter rage to fabricate a clever plot to get your payback on him,” Hope replied. “You stole the key from Travis when you spotted it on his desktop while you were in his office. He’d written on the leather fob the door key opens the bookshop.”
“Everybody knows Travis is absent-minded and wouldn’t miss the key,” Peggy Sue said. “Then it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out how to get into the bookshop and plant Hugo’s dead body there.”
“How did I allegedly kill Hugo?” Cammie asked. “I don’t have a mean bone in my body. Ask anybody who lives in Sweet Springs, and they’ll tell you the same thing.”
“Our leading theory is Hugo died of fatal poisoning,” Hope replied.
“You may’ve well used odorless, tasteless arsenic,” Peggy Sue said.
“How might you know that gruesome fact?” Cammie asked.
“Reading books has its advantages,” Peggy Sue replied. “Nonetheless, I’m sure the same information can be easily researched on the internet.”
“I’ve never used arsenic to poison anybody,” Cammie said.
“Hugo probably left behind a few of his personal articles, say, like a favorite straight razor at your house,” Peggy Sue replied. “You called him and generously invited him over to retrieve them. After he arrived, you offered him a spiked drink, perhaps for toasting old time’s sake, or maybe it was one for the road. I’ve read where the killers have laced everything from wine to beer with arsenic. The intended murder victim has no advance warning. Their death takes a while and isn’t pretty. Unfortunately for you not doing enough of your homework, arsenic poisoning is easily detectable.”
“Why did I allegedly put Hugo’s dead body in your bookshop?” Cammie asked. “Why didn’t I leave him on the roadside or deep in the woods?”
“Your frame job was rickety as an old ladder-back chair, but it proved effective enough to deflect the attention away from you,” Hope replied. “Maybe you’d plans to return to Travis’ office later and put the key back on his desk. Happy-go-lucky Travis would think the key had just turned up again.”
“Door key, dead body, arsenic—you weave a fascinating tale,” Cammie said, weakly.
“Which brings us back to the incriminating film we have, and you don’t want the police to have,” Peggy Sue said.
“What’s recorded on the film tells the gospel truth,” Hope said. “Face it, Cammie. We have you trapped six ways to Sunday, and then some.”
The little cogs spinning inside of Cammie’s head made her eyes dart back and forth. She laughed. It wasn’t a shrill, maniacal laugh but a nervous one.
“Did you drive out here to blackmail me?” Cammie asked. “Is that what you’ve been up to tonight?”
The light bulb flashed on, Hope. Keep up the pressure but don’t overdo it. Slow and easy nabs the killer. Meantime, I’ll keep a cat’s eye on her handgun.
“That depends on whether you murdered Hugo,” Hope replied. “If it’s not you on the film, everybody walks away from this meeting with no hard feelings. However, we all know that it’s you, and you’re going to have to cut a deal with us.”
“Here’s the question: how greedy are you?” Cammie asked.
“Put it this way: Peggy Sue and I don’t come cheap,” Hope replied.
“We also don’t want to bleed you bone dry,” Peggy Sue said. “We’ll be back to collect the next installment and so forth. I’m sure you can grasp how the concept of blackmail works.”
Cammie turned to the window and stared out into the murky distance.
“Don’t open the car door and make a run for it,” Hope said. “Flight isn’t your smart play here, Cammie. Sit and think it through with me. If you comply with our wishes, your crime stays private, and your life goes on as normal. So what if you have to cough up a little money each week for us? It sure beats going to jail, or worse.”
Okay, Hope, back off and give Cammie a few moments to digest it all.While deliberating, Cammie was quiet as the long minute dragged by.
Hope felt as if they’d gambled, and lost. She looked at Peggy Sue and Nozy Cat.
Don’t count us out yet. We still have a chance.
“Fine,” Cammie said. “Let’s make a deal.”
“So then, did you fatally poison Hugo Spangler?” Hope asked.
“
And I’d do it again if I could,” Cammie replied.
An icy-cold chill ran down Hope’s spine, and she couldn’t repress her shudder.
“But why, Cammie?” Peggy Sue asked in a strained voice. “You have so many good things going for you.”
“Hugo fell in love with her,” the angry Cammie replied. “Then he dumped me. Do you have any idea of how degrading that feels? Well, do you?”
“Do you refer to Sarah Caldwell as the her?” Peggy Sue asked.
“Yeah, she’s the one who wrecked my life,” Cammie replied.
“Was leaving behind the woman’s Orioles baseball cap your finishing touch?” Hope asked.
“Something like that. That weekend I got suspicious after Hugo blew me off, and I followed him up to Baltimore.” Cammie laughed. “He was in such a hurry to see her that he never checked his mirrors. Big mistake. I lost him several times, but I never gave up my pursuit. My tenacity paid off. Before it was over, I knew the hotel they stayed in, the places they went, and the stuff they did. Devising his murder was a cinch, and I fixed it so they’d never go watch another baseball game together.”
Cammie lunged for the handgun.
A split second ahead of her, Nozy Cat hissed and bared his claws to freeze the startled her. Then he used his teeth to grab up the straps to her denim handbag and whipped it to come flying toward him.
The denim handbag sailed up, and its momentum knocked him tumbling head-over-heels off the tuffet to the floor mat on Peggy Sue’s side. He scrambled to climb back up on the tuffet.
“Be quick,” Hope said, twisting around in her seat. “Grab the gun.”
“I’m trying,” Peggy Sue said as she leaned forward to reach down.
“Nozy Cat, help Peggy Sue,” Hope said.
What do you think I’m doing? Playing with my catnip toy?
“Where’s the gun?” Hope asked.
Cammie darted her hand by Nozy Cat, groping for the handgun that had spilled out of the denim handbag. She snarled a curse at him that rhymes with glass bowel as she clutched at only empty air.
Finally, Peggy Sue scooped up the handgun. She waved it as a gesture to settle down the furious Cammie.
Nifty snag, Peggy Sue. It went down just the way I choreographed it.
“Uh-huh,” Peggy Sue said. “Sure it did.”
Hope took a deep breath and exhaled. “Did you get all that, Sergeant Trogg?” she asked.
“Who’s that you said?” Cammie said, jolting straight up in the rear seat. “Sergeant Trogg.” She turned and gaped out the windows. “Where is he?” She glowered up at Hope. “What’s really going on? Is this a shakedown?”
“That’s right: you’ve been had,” Hope replied. “We set up a police sting.”
“Then I want a lawyer,” Cammie said.
“You just sit back there and be quiet,” the armed Peggy Sue said.
“I heard everything and recorded the audio,” Sergeant Trogg said as he drove toward them. “Hope and Peggy Sue are off the hook.”
“Don’t sound so happy about it, Sergeant,” Hope said in a sarcastic tone.
“Hope, I played ball with you and Peggy Sue here at the end,” Sergeant Trogg said. “You came out on the top. We’ll probably find your missing bookshop key in Cammie’s handbag. If I were in your shoes, I’d stop making waves and relish your victory.”
As much as it galls me to say it, he’s given us the best advice, Hope.
“Then I’m glad it’s all over at last,” Hope said.
Chapter 24
“Don’t you owe Hope and me an apology for your rude behavior over the past couple of days?” Peggy Sue asked.
What Peggy Sue really means to say is for your acting like an all-around jerk while we had to do the police’s work and not get much support from you.
Sergeant Trogg, slouching beside the front counter to the Brontë Bookshop, looked down as he shuffled his shoes. He made a throat-clearing noise and refused to look the two ladies in the eye.
I’ve seen hangdog expressions before, but Sergeant Trogg’s now takes the dog biscuit.
“Here’s the deal about the Hugo Spangler case,” Sergeant Trogg said. “You did play a pivotal role in closing it out satisfactorily.”
“That, sir, is understating the facts in the case,” Peggy Sue said. “We almost single-handedly stepped in and put it to rest.”
“Even if you did, I’m not going to apologize for doing my sworn official duty,” Sergeant Trogg said. “We cops use subterfuge in our investigative procedures all the time. I didn’t know you weren’t the killers, but I had a cop’s hunch you might be, so I had to play it out. It was as simple as that.”
“We bear you no lasting grudges or ill will,” Hope said. “However, our meeting this morning effectively terminates our working relationship.”
Sergeant Trogg used his thumbnail to scratch at his grizzled chin stubble as he grinned. “Oh, but I beg to differ.” He looked at her with a cunning glint in his eyes.
Surprised, Hope was on her guard. He was up to his usual chicanery.
“There’s no difference to be begged, Sergeant,” Hope said. “As of right now, Peggy Sue and I are out of the amateur detective racket. End of story.”
Hope’s look included Peggy Sue and Nozy Cat who sat by the cash register. Both of them sheepishly glanced away from her gaze. Nozy Cat made a noise sounding like a cat snicker.
“Something fishy is going on here,” Hope said. “Will somebody let me in on what it is?”
“I don’t know if Peggy Sue has spoken to you, but she and I held a conversation on this same topic earlier this morning,” Sergeant Trogg replied.
“Your mention of it is the first I’ve heard,” Hope said, giving Peggy Sue an intense look. “Give me the gist of what you discussed.”
Peggy Sue spoke quickly. “Sergeant Trogg and I went over the outline of our supporting him as unpaid consultants on any future homicide mysteries that may come up in Sweet Springs.”
“That’s it in a nutshell,” Sergeant Trogg said. “However, Peggy Sue made it abundantly clear we had to get your buy-in before it was a done deal. So, what’s your answer going to be, Hope? Is it yes or no?”
Hope looked at Nozy Cat, soliciting his input only she and Peggy Sue could hear. His marble blue eyes gleamed brighter.
It’s a no brainer for me. I always love to sink my teeth into a good mystery, so I have to vote go for it with all the gusto you can muster.
Sergeant Trogg acted his warmest possible self. “The police department and good citizens of Sweet Springs could benefit from your snoop talents. Think of the comfort you can bring to the grieving loved ones of murder victims like you did this time to Hugo’s mother Shirley Spangler.”
“Exactly so,” Peggy Sue said. “That good deed alone is what makes it all worth our while.”
Look, I grant you he isn’t the easiest cop to cooperate with, and his people skills leave a lot to be desired. But he’s the only cop we know, so we can’t be too picky about whom our allies are.
“If I agree to cooperate with you, it won’t be a smooth ride, and conflicts will arise, I’m afraid,” Hope said.
“Understood and accepted,” Sergeant Trogg said. “Make up your mind, please. Are you in or out?”
“O f course I’ll have to discuss it with my daughter Stace,” Hope replied.
I already did before Stace left for school this morning, and she’s all for the arrangement. You’ve run out of handy excuses. It’s time to stop quibbling and make a decision.
Hope regarded Peggy Sue again. “You’re my best friend. Are you absolutely positive this is the right course of action for us to take?”
Peggy Sue nodded. “I sure do, Hope.”
“Then count me in, too,” Hope said.
Sergeant Trogg used his avuncular smile. “I know we’re going to click just fine while solving the cases together,” he said. “Who can say? We might even become pals.” He chuckled at the idea.
“Let’s not rush t
hings and get too far ahead of ourselves,” Hope said.
“I’m suggesting anything is possible in the realm of crime fighting,” Sergeant Trogg said.
This is a rare thing for me to do, but I have to agree with Sergeant Trogg.
“We have a bookshop to run,” Hope said. “When you have a new homicide on your hands, you come on back, and we’ll chat about it again.”
“Fair enough.” Sergeant Trogg gave a pleased nod, pushed his way out the bookshop door, and ambled off to his police car parked on Main Street.
He reminds me of a man who just struck it big at winning the Virginia Lottery,” Peggy Sue said.
“I’m glad we could bring a measure of relief and comfort to Shirley Spangler,” Hope said. “I’d never bring it up with her, but Hugo wasn’t an angel, not by a long shot.”
Peggy Sue shrugged. “His blackmail schemes died and got buried with him.”
“Was Dan McCabe one of Hugo’s blackmail victims?” Hope asked. “What dirty secrets did he discover about Dan?”
“I’m not curious enough to ever want to find out,” Peggy Sue replied.
“Did Cammie Jenkins know about, or was she a partner in his blackmail crimes?” Hope asked.
“Stop it, Hope,” Peggy Sue said. “It’s finished, and our asking more questions about the case also has to end.”
Hope nodded once.
“The bookshop is now our concern,” Peggy Sue said. “We now have to deal with the dreadful shape of our finances.”
“I suppose it’s unavoidable,” Hope said with a gloomy scowl. “I’d rather undergo an appendectomy with a butter knife than to say it, but we’re about two cents away from the poorhouse.”
However, for some mysterious reason, Peggy Sue kept on smiling. “Nozy Cat, do you want to be the one who breaks the terrific news to Hope?” she asked.
I’ll do it with pleasure.
“Okay, what’s going on with you?” Hope asked. “I don’t like all these secrets being kept from me today.”
Early this morning while I was making my security rounds, I noticed a large pasteboard box of books shoved into the corner of the back room. Being a cat with an extra dose of nosiness, I decided to paw around inside the box.