The Christmas Kitten: A Polly Parrett Pet-Sitter Cozy Murder Mystery Book 2 (Polly Parrett Pet Sitter Cozy Murder Mysteries)

by Liz Dodwell

  “Why wouldn’t he have come forward to take care of the girls?” Linda asked.

  “Are you saying Whittier killed his own wife? And then abandoned his children?” Tyler was disbelieving.

  “I’m saying trust no-one. And keep in mind Whittier is a highly trained and combat seasoned warrior. Don’t mess with him.” With that, the Sheriff settled his hat firmly on his head and left us digesting the awful possibility the girls’ father had murdered their stepmother

  Nineteen

  I was on a mission. After Sheriff Wisniewski left last night, Mom, Rooster, Linda, Tyler and I sat around the table trying to figure out what we could do about the situation.

  I know…you’re thinking the Sheriff warned us not to get involved, but what would you do? Two kids were facing the prospect of being without their only parent. And Christmas was almost here. Somehow that made things worse.

  We hashed around the meaning of the letters on the bracelet: A V O, or maybe A V D. It seemed most likely they were someone’s initials, though none of us could think of anyone who would fit the bill.

  “Could it be Nicole had a lover?” Linda asked. “Someone who followed her to Mallowapple?”

  “The person most likely to know if there’s a stranger in town is Nita,” I said (she’s the owner of Bennie’s Diner, which is the hub of Mallowapple gossip). “I’ll stop in there tomorrow and see what I can find out.”

  So that’s where I was headed now, and I was really hoping my time would be productive, ‘cause we hadn’t come up with anything else of use.

  Tyler and I had ended up staying at Welcome Home last night. With five bedrooms and only Linda and Rooster in residence there was plenty of room for us. And the roads really were bad; it wasn’t worth the risk of driving in the dark.

  Mom had fretted she’d have to cancel her hair appointment the next day. She was able to driver herself these days in her compact car, using hand controls. Getting in and out, however, was tricky even on the best of days. It required lifting herself from the wheelchair to the car seat and taking the chair apart to stow it beside her. There was no way it was safe to do that today and, anyway, her car couldn’t handle the deep snow. So Tyler volunteered to act as chauffeur. “No one is buying houses at Christmas,” he’d said, “so I have all day to help, if you need me.”

  I was really grateful to him. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve and the Welcome Home open house, and I knew Mom wanted to look her best for it. She didn’t get much chance to gussy up.

  Nita’s was pretty full for mid-morning and I had to park a block away. I’d stopped at my house for some quality time with my cats, Ditto, Taz and Amber and to drop the dogs off. Happily everything was going smoothly with my pet-sitting crew, so I was free to delve into the murder mystery.

  There was no need to beat around the bush with Nita. Gossip was a way of life and she considered it perfectly normal to want to know another person’s business.

  “Nita,” I leaned against the counter and took a sip from my double shot cappuccino, “do you know who told the Sheriff they saw Neal Whittier a few days ago?”

  “Of course I know.” She gave me a scornful look. “It was Becky Marchand. She lives across from them and happened to notice a man lurking by the door.” Of course she did.

  “When was this?”

  “The night before the murder.”

  “So it was dark. Then how could she be sure it was Whittier?”

  “Ask her yourself. Here she comes.” Nita nodded in the direction of the entrance and there came Becky, greeting all the diners as if she were their favorite aunt, while wending her way to us.

  “Polly,” she beamed, “how nice to see you, dear. Sit down with me and tell me what’s going on at Welcome Home.”

  Yep, these ladies were nothing if not direct.

  I treated Becky to a piece of warm apple cider cake with vanilla ice cream. Naturally, I couldn’t expect her to eat alone so I had to get some for myself.

  Nita sat with us, and I let Becky ramble on, thinking she was more likely to say something of interest if I didn’t interrupt. And I admit, I didn’t want my ice cream to melt.

  “Well, I was sitting at the window with my knitting. You know I can practically knit blindfold so I don’t need a light on, and I enjoy looking at the stars. I saw a man walking along the street. Actually, it was more like marching, or no, no…striding. That’s it; he was striding.” I sighed and Becky chatted on.

  “He went right up to the house and tried to look through the windows. The drapes were drawn mind you, so I don’t suppose he could really see anything. She, Mrs. Whittier, Nicole that is, got blackout drapes at Pottery Barn. I asked her if I could see how they looked hanging in the house because I was thinking of getting some myself. She had striped ones and I prefer floral…”

  Time to interrupt.

  “Becky, uh Becky.” She looked at me as though surprised I was even there. “How could you know it was Neal Whittier?”

  “He was a big man, broad shoulders you know, and had a backpack or some such thing over his shoulder. And in any case, who else would it be?”

  Good grief.

  Have you ever seen him before?” I asked.

  “No, dear. When would I have seen him? He’s never been in Mallowapple before.”

  I grit my teeth and tried again. “Did the man go in the house?”

  “Well, he knocked on the door but Nicole wasn’t home, was she?”

  “Wasn’t she?”

  “Of course not; she always goes to her yoga class on Wednesday evening. She goes three times a week, actually, Monday and Friday mornings and then Wednesday.”

  “What about the girls?”

  “Ah, that does bother me. They’re at school on Monday and Friday, but she leaves them alone on Wednesday and that’s not right. The older one is very sensible but I still try and keep my eye out for them.”

  “If the girls were home when the man knocked, why didn’t they open the door?”

  “I expect they’ve been told not to. Honestly, Polly, you do ask some silly questions.”

  I wondered if I had any aspirin in the van, because I was getting a serious headache.

  “One more thing, Becky. Do you know where Nicole went for Yoga?”

  “It’s that place over in Mud River. Now what’s the name?”

  “Averil Daine Yoga Studio,” Nita injected with an air of triumph. It must have half killed her to sit so long without saying anything. “I know because Ginny Hansen takes classes there. Come to think of it, she’s never mentioned seeing Nicole Whittier there.”

  “That’s because she took private lessons,” said Becky with a nod of finality.

  Twenty

  I was resting my head on the steering wheel when the phone rang. I’d found an aspirin powder deep in the glove compartment, which I’d had to swallow dry because I’d forgotten to refill my water bottle. The Jingle Bell dogs sounded like a pack of high-pitched poodles and it cut right through my brain. I snatched up the phone, “Yes?”

  “Someone’s not having a good day.” Mom.

  “Sorry, Mom, I’ve got a really bad headache. I’ve been talking to Becky Marchand.”

  “No need to say anything else,” Mom understood right away. “I have some information that might help take your mind off it. Let’s meet for an early lunch at the diner and …”

  “Not the diner, Mom. Can we do this at my place? It will be private there.”

  There were murmurings in the background then Mom spoke again. “Tyler said we’ll bring lunch. Be there in half an hour.”

  Bliss is a Shrimp and Shroom pizza. That’s what Tyler and Mom arrived with; my favorite combo of shrimp, mushroom and onion from the local pizzeria. There was just one slice left.

  “You have it Polly,” Tyler shoved the box my way.

  “I’m stuffed. You finish it.” I was just being polite but Tyler picked the slice up and it was heading for his mouth when he burst out laughing.

  “You should see y
our face.” Mom was laughing too.

  “We’ll split it,” Tyler said, and he tore it in half, handing the bigger piece to me.

  “While you two finish,” Mom said, “I’ll fill you in on my news.

  “Janice Whipple was at Combing Attractions Hair Salon while I was there, and she told me she’d seen Nicole Whittier arguing with Britney Harris about a week ago. Janice was over at the Mud River Mall and was passing Dazzle Diamonds when she heard an uproar. She looked in and there were Nicole and Britney going at it. Actually, she said Britney was doing all the yelling, and was trying to grab something Nicole was holding behind her back.

  “The manager was quick to intervene and asked Britney to leave. That didn’t go over well and Britney started screaming at him, so they called for security and she was hustled out.”

  “Phew. That’s enough to make Britney murderous.”

  Mom gave me a cautionary look. “Don’t let your personal feelings get in the way of the truth, Polly.”

  “I’m not. What were they fighting over anyway?”

  “A little black and gold frog with diamonds on it. Janice said she pretended to be looking in the case next to Nicole as she bought it, but she couldn’t tell if it was a pin or a pendant. I must say, though, it seems a real stretch to think anyone would kill over an item of jewelry.”

  “Maybe there was already bad blood between them,” Tyler suggested. “I think I should have a chat with Britney and see what I can find out.”

  “Not without me, you don’t.”

  “Oh, Polly,” Mom sighed, then continued, “I’m wondering about the connection between Averil Daine and the bracelet. How does her name correspond to A V D? It’s very flimsy to me, and we’re not even sure the D isn’t an O.”

  She started gathering up the empty pizza box and napkins. “I should get back to the house and help with preparations for tomorrow. Let’s sum up what we know for now, and what we can do.

  “We have three murder suspects: Britney Harris, because she had an argument with Nicole; the woman from the yoga studio, Averil Daine; and let’s not forget Neal Whittier, because he may have been seen at the house before the murder, but has since been missing.”

  “Perhaps it’s time I considered yoga lessons, and I guess it might be best if Tyler speaks with Britney alone,” I conceded.

  Mom smiled her approval. “And I’ll chat with the girls; maybe they know more than they realize.”

  Twenty One

  “Yoga enhances the function of all bodily systems, which may help you lose weight.” What was the woman implying? “It calms the mind, enhances muscle strength and flexibility, and helps you face life’s challenges and promote self-healing.”

  I was beginning to wonder if I really should start doing yoga. Instead I asked, “Are you Averil Daine?”

  “Gracious, no. Her offices are in New York.”

  “Oh, so when does she come here?”

  The woman gave me a puzzled look. “She’s hardly likely to come to Mud River. That’s not how it works.”

  “How what works?”

  “If we need assistance or Flavio wants to run a new marketing campaign, they send someone down from corporate.”

  A penny dropped. “You’re a franchise.”

  “You didn’t know? There are Averil Daine studios all over the country.”

  Instead of responding to that, I asked, “Who’s Flavio?”

  Behind me a voice replied, “That would be me.”

  Va Va Voom!

  The guy was gorgeous. Everything you could imagine in a Latin lover: dark, Italian looks, alluring eyes, sensual mouth. Oh my.

  “Miss Parrett is interested in our beginner classes.”

  “Miss Parrett? You must have a beautiful first name to match those beautiful eyes.”

  “It’s, uh, Polly.”

  “I was right, Polly.” He practically purred my name. “Has Dalia shown you around?” I could only shake my head dumbly. “Then come this way, please.”

  He put his hand on the small of my back to guide me along, saying things about stress reduction, deep feelings and love, that pretty much went over my head. Get a grip, Polly.

  The trance was broken when a door opened and a group of women filtered into the hallway. As they saw Flavio, they bunched around him offering unmitigated adoration and effectively blocking me out. Talk about magnetism.

  Eventually, Flavio pulled himself away while the women blew kisses at him and cooed, “Love you.” In turn, Flavio kissed his finger tips and blew the kiss back at them, calling out, “Remember ladies, love conquers all.”

  OK, now I was officially not attracted to the man.

  To hide my discomfort, I coughed and mumbled, “You’re certainly popular.”

  “We stress the power of love here, and I encourage the ladies to also express it.”

  I didn’t want to ask exactly what he meant by that, so I trooped along beside him to complete my studio tour. He found every opportunity to brush up against me or take my hand to lead me along. He even stroked my cheek, saying I had lint stuck there, and made a point to remark that my skin was “so soft, like the wings of a butterfly.” There was nothing overt in his manner, but it was certainly suggestive, and by the time we were back in the foyer I couldn’t get out of there fast enough.

  “Uh, thanks. This was very, um, educational. I appreciate you taking the time to show me around.”

  “I believe in a hands-on approach.” Don’t you ever! “Here, take one of our brochures; it will give you the times of our group classes, or we can always go one on one.”

  Snatching the pamphlet from his hand I hurried back to the van, locked the door behind me and released the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding

  Twenty Two

  Tomorrow would be Christmas Eve. So far my crew had all the pet-sits under control, and with luck it would stay that way. It was great to have such wonderful people on my team and know I could rely on them.

  It had been decided I would stay at Welcome Home through Christmas. With the Open House planned for Christmas Eve, Mom and the gang needed all the help they could get. There was one huge problem, though…I still hadn’t had a chance to do any shopping.

  As I loaded the dogs and cats in the van – yes, Ditto, Taz and Amber were coming for the celebrations, too – I wracked my mind for ideas, but it just kept filling with thoughts of Nicole Whittier and her step-daughters. Oh, well. I’d just have to beg forgiveness from everybody and get their gifts later on.

  It was already dark and the roads were still treacherous, and I hoped that didn’t stop people from coming tomorrow. Most people had studded tires on their vehicles and were used to the weather, but you never know what might happen. And the guys would be terribly disappointed if their hard work didn’t pay off.

  My negative thoughts dissipated the instant I reached the farmhouse. Quite simply, it was magical. The lights were on, the little train was running, elves were waving and this time it was Bing Crosby whose voice came over the audio system, singing White Christmas.

  I pulled around to the back of the house so the van would be out of the way, and trudged in with my furry dog family.

  “Need help?” Tyler was there. He’d been with Mom all day, running errands and helping out. He’d picked up Frank along the way, and both of them would be staying for Christmas. This year Tyler’s parents had decided to spend the holidays in Bermuda and had taken his sister along. Tyler elected to stay in Mallowapple. I smiled broadly at him and gave him a big smackaroo on the lips.

  “Hey, you can grab the cats in their carriers for me and take them up to my room. Then how about you join me for a little eggnog and tell me what happened with Britney?”

  “No time for that,” Tyler said over his shoulder as he headed to the van. “Your mother has plans for you in the kitchen, and I’m on loan to Rooster. We’re building a stand for the entertainment.”

  “Entertainment? What entertainment?”

  Tyler wouldn’t say mor
e on the subject, and I soon forgot about it as Mom, Linda, the girls and I stirred spices into cider, ladled pumpkin and pecan fillings into tartlets, beat together ingredients for sugar cookies and gingerbread men. The aroma was heavenly and none of us could resist sampling a little of our creations.

  By the time we were done it was getting late. We’d already packed the girls off to bed and everyone was yawning big time and making mutterings about being ready for bed.

  “Hold on, people! We still have a murder to solve.” I stood with hands on hips, daring the others to leave, then directed my attention to Tyler. “And I still want to know what happened when you talked to Britney.”

  “OK, OK.” Tyler reached for the coffee pot and poured himself another cup, then eased his frame onto the window bench. “The fight was over a charm, one of those collectible things you buy to put on a bracelet. Apparently this particular charm is scarce and Nicole had just bought the last one. Britney wanted to buy it from her, Nicole refused and you know the rest.”

  “Then it’s possible Britney could have gone to Nicole’s house to make another attempt at persuading her to give up the charm,” Linda was hypothesizing, “Nicole said, ‘No,’ Britney lost her temper and stabbed her. She might still have been woozy from the fall when Sophie pushed her, and unable to fight back.”

  “I thought about that,” Tyler said, “but where did she get the knife? If she brought one that makes it premeditated murder, and I don’t buy that. And as far as we know, there are no knives missing from the house.

  “Britney also insisted she did not contact Nicole again and, anyway, she found another charm online. She was wearing it, so I can vouch for that.”

  “She might still have gone to Nicole’s before she bought online.” I sooo wanted a reason for Britney to be the killer.

  “She may be conceited but she’s not stupid,” Mom said. “She’d know it would be easy to check the timeline, so why lie?”