Pawsitively Deadly (Silver Springs Cozy Mystery Series Book 1)

by Ginny Gold

  Josh nods. “It’s okay. Another time.”

  He stands to leave and quickly walks to the front door. Maggie follows and watches him go, clearly heartbroken that she has other plans. He didn’t even ask if they were going out with male friends and a potential date.

  Maggie closes the door behind him and watches him through the glass window. He never looks back in her direction but she waves anyway. He doesn’t notice. He climbs onto a bike and pedals away. She briefly wonders how he managed to get the lilies to her while riding a bike.

  Maggie enjoys the rest of her lunch while reading the book she couldn’t put down this morning at The Coffee Bean. She sits much longer than her sandwich lasts and finally closes it two chapters after she meant to. It’s now well past one in the afternoon, really closer to two, and she picks up her handbag to go next door and finally get to work.

  Maggie knocks on Vince and Harriet Flint’s front door and waits. She can hear shuffling around inside before it’s opened and an elderly man gives her the friendliest smile she’s ever received.

  “Maggie Boothe. We’ve been wondering when you might come to visit. We’ve been watching you come and go since Sunday and knew it was only a matter of time.”

  Maggie keeps her surprise from showing on her face. “You must be Vince.”

  “Yes. Come in, come in. Harriet,” he calls in the direction of the kitchen, “Maggie Boothe is here. Will you bring some tea?”

  Maggie wants to protest, that she doesn’t need them to make her anything, but he feels like a grandfather who wants to take care of her. She follows him into a sitting room and they each take a seat on overly fluffy furniture.

  Maggie crosses her legs, not quite sure how to proceed. Vince seems to have been expecting Maggie, but he doesn’t say why. He’s waiting for Harriet to bring tea, and when she finally places a tray of mugs, teabags and hot water on the coffee table, Vince relaxes.

  “Maggie, I’m so glad you came to visit,” Harriet says, taking a seat on the couch next to Vince. “We were devastated when your parents passed and knew you’d come back to help at the store.”

  Maggie looks up from the mug she’s filling with hot water. “Oh, I’m . . . I’m not here to help with the store. Clem has that all under control.”

  Harriet and Vince exchange a look that Maggie can’t read so Maggie continues. “I’m actually here because I don’t think my parents committed suicide.”

  Harriet fidgets with her hands in her lap and Vince reaches over to hold them.

  “Did you maybe see anything unusual that would help figure that out?” Maggie asks.

  They exchange another look before Vince answers after a long pause. “We told all this to the police,” he starts. Maggie thinks back to the statements she read yesterday afternoon in the file from Detective Stevens but can’t recall anything from the Flints. She might have overlooked it or not come across it yet. “But there was a dark red sedan in the driveway that afternoon and evening. We thought nothing of it at the time but told the police. Over the last month we’ve thought more about it and decided it had to be connected.”

  “Any idea whose it was?” Maggie asks, hopeful that she’s finally found a real lead.

  Vince and Harriet both shake their heads. “We never saw it before then and haven’t seen it since. We told the police but we don’t know if they did anything about it. Everything we heard made it sound like it was suicide. But we didn’t think Eleanor and Charles had it in them. They were so happy.”

  A tear silently rolls down Harriet’s cheek and Maggie wants to go to her and wipe it away. Harriet pulls a handkerchief from her pocket and wipes her eyes and nose. Vince rubs her shoulder and asks Maggie, “Do you think it could be connected?”

  Maggie nods slowly. “It could be. It’s the first piece of information that might lead to something. I’ve been talking to people in town for the past couple days but everything keeps leading to dead ends. I’ll definitely look into this. Did you notice anything else about the car? License plates? Out of state?”

  Vince and Harriet both shake their heads and frown. “Sorry,” Harriet whispers.

  “Don’t be,” Maggie says a little too quickly. “This is really helpful.”

  “Will you stay for the rest of your tea?” Harriet asks, perking up a bit.

  Maggie nods and says gently, “Of course.” She can feel Harriet’s relief from across the room.

  “Have you visited The Dancing Donkey yet?” Vince asks and Harriet gently touches his arm.

  “Of course she hasn’t,” Harriet says, a smile creeping back into her voice. “Why would she go there?”

  Maggie smiles at their married banter. “I noticed it across the street from Two Sisters. It looked . . . unique.” She can’t think of a better word that won’t insult the shop. “What exactly is it?”

  “Oh, it certainly is unique,” Harriet says, amusement coming through each word. “Our friend, Delilah, owns it and Vince is always trying to bring in new customers for her.”

  “But what is it?” Maggie asks again in the silence.

  “A tea house. And she reads your tea leaves after. You usually have to make an appointment. But she could be helpful in your search for the truth about your parents,” Harriet explains.

  Maggie nods politely. She’s never believed in crystal ball readers, tea leaf readers, palm readers or any other kind of fortune teller. It always sounded a little too out there for her own beliefs. But with her mother calling from the great beyond, on a phone that isn’t hooked up to anything, maybe this is the solution to her problems.

  CHAPTER 20

  Back at home, Maggie starts looking for anything she can find about a dark red sedan in the file from the police department. She does find Vince and Harriet’s statements, but they didn’t emphasize the red sedan so it was glossed over.

  Maggie decides her best bet is to call Trista again and see if she can dig anything up. She gets setup in the kitchen with her tablet, phone and recorder and calls the only person she thinks will be able to help.

  “Maggie. How’s it going in Silver Springs?” Trista asks after so many rings Maggie thinks it will go to voicemail.

  Maggie chuckles. “Oh, it’s going. I think I have a lead that I need you to check out. You have time to do that?”

  “Of course. Lay it on me.”

  Maggie is always amazed at the way Trista communicates, even when it comes to work related conversations. There is a generation between them, and Maggie can feel it.

  “I’m going on the assumption that someone local killed my parents. So I need you to look up anyone in Silver Springs who owns a dark red sedan.”

  Maggie can hear Trista typing and she wishes she would only write it down instead.

  “That’s all the information you have?” Trista asks.

  “Yeah. You think you’ll be able to find anything out?” Maggie’s hopes are quickly fading at the sound of Trista’s question.

  “I think so. A license plate would be helpful though.”

  “No kidding. I tried. This was all I got. The witnesses are in their eighties. Even if the car was parked so they could see the license plate from their house, I doubt that their eyes are good enough to have seen the details.”

  Trista laughs. “Fair enough. That it?”

  “Yeah. Thanks. Let me know as soon as you learn anything.”

  “Will do.”

  The line goes dead and Maggie is left with her cell phone in her hand. She wishes she had more information she could give Trista, and leads that she could look into herself. She almost always has more to work with.

  There are still hours before Denis and Daniel are taking Clem and Maggie out to dinner so Maggie decides to go out on a limb and check out The Dancing Donkey. She suspects Vince and Harriet were simply trying to bring in new business to their friend’s shop but she’s just curious enough to want to know more.

  On Main Street, Maggie walks the two blocks from the underground parking garage to The Dancing Donk
ey. With today’s warmer weather, there are many more people on the street than yesterday. Shops have their front doors propped open and Maggie can feel the summer mood starting in the mountains.

  Maggie lets herself into The Dancing Donkey and is immediately taken aback by the smells of various herbs that she suspects are the teas. An elderly woman comes out of a back room through the only separator—a beaded curtain. Maggie thought those had gone out of style decades ago.

  “What can I doooo for youuuu?” the gray haired woman asks, her hands clasped together. “You’re here for a mind-clearing tea, noooo?”

  “Delilah?” Maggie asks, sticking her hand out. But Delilah recoils, only nodding to let Maggie know she has the right person. “Vince and Harriet Flint thought I might enjoy one of your teas.”

  Delilah turns her back on Maggie and opens three different glass jars on a shelf covered with every shape of container imaginable. Each one contains dried tea leaves ranging from bright greens to dark browns that are almost black. Maggie wonders if any of them have psychedelic powers. It looks like one of the medical marijuana dispensaries that are so prevalent in Colorado.

  “Youuuu are hoping to see things more clearly,” Delilah says, her back still to Maggie. “There is something that youuuu are hoping to uncover.” She turns around quickly and thrusts a mug of hot tea into Maggie’s face. “Come, sit. Youuuu will drink and youuuu will see.”

  Maggie follows Delilah back behind the beaded curtain and sits on the floor opposite Delilah. There is a short wooden table between them where Delilah sets the tea.

  Maggie picks it up carefully so she doesn’t spill the hot liquid all over her. She sniffs it and is relieved that it smells like something familiar—maybe hibiscus tea, but she’s not quite sure.

  Delilah stares across the table at Maggie, both of them silent, waiting for something that Maggie isn’t sure of. She sips the hot liquid and surprises herself by enjoying the flavor.

  “Youuuuu must drink quickly, before it cools,” Delilah says, her eyes unblinking.

  Maggie wonders if Harriet and Vince can be trusted if this is their idea of an afternoon well spent. But she follows Delilah’s instructions and gulps down the liquid, leaving only the leaves.

  Delilah reaches across the table and roughly takes the mug from Maggie’s hand. She spends many seconds studying the leaves, turning the mug this way and that. Maggie isn’t hopeful that anything she says will make sense, but she’s still anxious to hear what Delilah sees.

  “It is as I thought,” Delilah whispers in an ominous tone and Maggie leans in closer to hear every last word. “What youuuu are seeking is nearer than youuuu realize. The truth will be made clear, but youuuu must be careful. Youuuu are in great danger.” Delilah looks up and Maggie sees fear in her eyes. “If youuuu don’t trust anyone, the danger could be deadly.”

  Delilah promptly stands and brings the mug of tea with her to yet another room behind another beaded curtain. Maggie isn’t sure what she’s supposed to do. She stands tentatively and walks back out front.

  A young woman she didn’t see on her way in is now standing behind a cash register, which had also gone unnoticed when Maggie entered. The woman hands Maggie a bill for twenty six dollars.

  “We also accept tips,” the woman tells her.

  Maggie is annoyed that she wasn’t given any choice of tea and is now being charged an arm and a leg for only mediocre tea that she had to chug. But she pays anyway without putting up a fight.

  Maggie walks out of The Dancing Donkey, wondering what would have led Delilah to say those things. Everything was so generic, though also unnervingly applicable, that Maggie can’t take her seriously.

  She crosses the street and opens the door to Two Sisters. It’s nearing Clem’s closing time of five o’clock and Maggie is hoping that her mother will call again.

  Maggie finds the shop completely empty, Clem is even missing. She meanders around the displays that haven’t changed since she arrived on Sunday—she can’t even tell if anything has been bought since then—and Clem surprises her by coming out of the back office.

  “Oh, I didn’t know anyone was here,” Clem says, her surprise even greater than Maggie’s.

  “Sorry.” Maggie puts down the antique she’s holding and almost dropped when she jumped in surprise.

  “Don’t be. It’s just been really busy today, I must have not heard the bell when you opened the door.”

  Maggie looks around. “Busy?”

  Clem hurries from one spot to another, writing notes on a piece of paper while Maggie watches. “Yeah. There was an estate sale this morning and I bought a bunch of pieces. Now I have to make space for them.”

  “When did you have time to go to an estate sale?” Clem is the only person working here since their parents died.

  “I had to close for a few hours. That’s why I really hoped you’d help out while you’re here.” Clem’s tone is less accusatory than it was on Sunday.

  Maggie nods. “Maybe you could hire someone. Part-time even.”

  “Not yet. We’re not moving enough.”

  Maggie feels only slightly guilty for not helping Clem in the shop. Her main purpose is to figure out who killed their parents and taking time away from that is counterproductive.

  “What have you done today?” Clem asks, kindly changing the subject and not pressuring Maggie into something she doesn’t want to do.

  “Actually, I think I have my first strong lead. Vince and Harriet saw a dark red sedan at your place the afternoon Mom and Dad were killed. I have someone looking into that.”

  “That’s it? A dark red sedan?” Clem is still rushing around the shop and hasn’t looked in Maggie’s direction once.

  “Yes. It’s more than anything else I’ve learned.”

  “Did they recommend you visit The Dancing Donkey?” Clem finally stops and looks at Maggie, smiling.

  Maggie nods, surprised that Clem knows.

  “Did you go?”

  “I did.”

  Clem laughs and returns to taking notes. “Delilah is a real character, isn’t she?”

  Maggie laughs with her sister. “Yeah. I didn’t really know what to make of the whole thing. I had to chug my tea. And then she read the leaves, disappeared and someone else appeared from nowhere to charge me twenty six dollars for everything!”

  “That’s it? That’s a steal. Sometimes she charges as much as fifty.”

  Maggie is surprised. Why did she get a bargain price? Maybe because she was a first time customer.

  Before they can compare more notes on their visits to The Dancing Donkey, the phone in the phone booth rings and both women rush to answer it.

  CHAPTER 21

  “Mom?” Maggie asks when she gets to the phone first. Clem leans in close so she can hear both sides of the conversation.

  “Maggie,” her dad’s voice says through the receiver.

  “Dad!” both women exclaim. “Mom hasn’t been giving us much help.”

  “That’s because we can’t. We just don’t know what happened. But she told you we were murdered.”

  “Yes, yes,” Maggie says impatiently, knowing that this phone call will almost definitely be too short and without half of the answers she’s looking for. “And it was a man. And it wasn’t Drew Kent.” Maggie still isn’t convinced on that last tidbit of information. He was too nervous when she talked to him yesterday at the brewery.

  “Right. That’s all true.”

  Maggie interrupts him, wanting him to confirm or deny the Flints’ statement about the dark red sedan. “I talked to Harriet and Vince today—”

  “Aren’t they wonderful people?” her dad asks. Maggie wants to slap her forehead in frustration. That was not why she mentioned talking to them!

  “Yeah, they were great. But they told me they saw a dark red sedan in your driveway the afternoon you were killed. Do you know about that?”

  There’s a moment of silence before he answers. “No, I don’t know about the car.”


  “Did you see the killer?” Maggie asks, panicking that he’ll hang up before she gets all the answers she needs.

  “Yes and no. We both saw him, but his face was covered and he was using something to disguise his voice,” her dad explains.

  “So . . . how do you know it was a man?” Maggie asks, wondering if she’ll have to put Aurora Holt and even Leah Scott back on her suspect list.

  “He had a beard. And no . . . breasts.” He’s obviously uncomfortable mentioning that last detail to his daughters.

  “What color was his beard?” Maggie asks. “Are you sure it was real?”

  “If it wasn’t, it was the best fake beard I’ve ever seen.”

  “And a color?”

  “Oh right. It was dark. Almost black. No gray. Nothing was really unique about it.”

  Maggie is desperate now for details. “Anything else you can tell me about him? Height? Build? Was he overweight?”

  “No, he wasn’t overweight. He was under six feet. Average build. He must have been strong because he could move your mother and me after we were killed.”

  Maggie thinks of Josh immediately and the toned arms she picked up on at their first meeting. “About that, Mom said you didn’t die in the car of carbon monoxide poisoning. How were you killed then?”

  “We were poisoned. But I don’t know what it was. They didn’t find it on the autopsy?” he asks.

  Maggie mentally slaps her forehead again. “It was all assumed to be carbon monoxide poisoning so they didn’t check for anything else.”

  “But if we were dead before we were in the garage, how did carbon monoxide even show up on the autopsy?”

  Maggie shakes her head. “I don’t know.” There’s a long silence and Maggie asks, “Dad?” But there’s no answer and she slowly puts the receiver back in its place.

  “They’re really not that helpful,” Clem says matter of factly and Maggie nods in agreement. Of course, Maggie hadn’t expected any help from the deceased, so the few bits of information they’ve offered is more than nothing.

  “You have much left to do here?” Maggie asks as they leave the phone booth.