Nothing To Croak About (Silver Hollow Paranormal Cozy Mystery Series Book 3)

by Leighann Dobbs

  Issy waved her cousins over and filled them in on what they’d discovered.

  Gray made a face. “Why would Troy toss that in his own company’s trash, though? Not very bright for a smart guy. You’d think he’d burn such damning evidence instead.”

  “Maybe with all the investigations going on he didn’t want to get caught burning anything. Or maybe he had to dump it quick,” Ember said. “When Issy and I were there earlier, Len came in and was complaining about some screwup by the sanitation department and their dumpster not being emptied on time. Seemed like he was afraid Troy would be mad.”

  “Oh, right!” Issy nodded. “The guard had said the homeless had been rooting around inside the dumpster when he got there and trash was spilled everywhere in the parking lot. Must have been Marcy he saw going through the trash. Troy could’ve easily disposed of the album in there, thinking the garbage truck would haul it away and mash it to a pulp. Once that happened, no one would ever find the evidence.”

  They all stood silent for several moments, but something was still bugging Issy. She couldn’t quite place it, until… “That’s it!” She snapped her fingers. “I knew something was strange about those photos Gladys showed us, Ember. She specifically said Troy and Len had stayed to help with the internships that summer, but when she showed us those pictures on the wall of the candidates chosen, Jerry was in them, but not Troy!”

  “Oh my gosh!” Ember covered her mouth. “You’re right.”

  “That also explains why Linda Brewer was holding that photo in her hand, the one of the visitor’s badge,” Dex said, glancing at Owen. “It wasn’t a clue that pointed to Jerry as her killer. It was a clue pointing toward the paper mill—and Troy is the mill’s president.”

  “Man.” Raine shook her head, her expression disgusted. “I can’t believe Troy lied all those years ago to avoid going to prison for murder and let his friend take the blame instead.”

  “That explains why he’s always been so nice. Buying meals and trying to help him out. Guilty conscience,” Ember said.

  “Well, I’ll tell you one thing,” Owen said, pulling out his phone again and turning toward his car. “He might’ve gotten away with it all those years ago, but he won’t get away with it now!”

  Dex grabbed the photo album from Issy and rushed off after Owen, the two of them sidestepping and jumping over toads on the way to their cars.

  23

  “What’s going on?” Ed asked, walking over to them, the plant gone and the tension back in his posture. “Marcy, are you all right?”

  From atop the embankment, the wail of sirens and the screech of tires sounded as Dex and Owen took off to find Troy. Issy forced a smile and did her best to keep her voice calm. “The police think they may have found out who killed Adele Brundage and Linda Brewer.”

  “Who?” Ed put his arm around Marcy’s shoulders and pulled her into his side.

  “Troy Holland.” Gray crossed his arms and scowled.

  Ed cursed under his breath as Marcy buried her face in his broad chest. “He and Len used to come down here sometimes to visit Scott.” Ed’s bushy brows drew together as his expression darkened. “In fact, I saw that fancy Cadillac here the day Scott died.”

  Marcy sniffed and raised her head to look at Issy. “Scott was trying to get clean. He hadn’t touched any drugs in a couple of days, but the police thought he’d fallen off the wagon and overdosed. He didn’t, though. I swear he didn’t.”

  The Quinn cousins exchanged a look, and Issy leaned closer to Marcy. “Do you think Scott was starting to remember things from that spring break trip? Was that why Troy would want to kill him?”

  “I don’t think so.” She wiped her nose on the sleeve of her hoodie again. “At least he never said anything to me if he did. But Troy used to give Scott money. I was always suspicious of that. Though maybe they wanted to keep him hooked on the drugs to stop him from saying or remembering something he shouldn’t.” She blinked back more tears. “Way I figure, whoever killed him probably heard he was going clean and made sure he would never remember anything again.”

  Marcy’s sobs started again, and Issy did her best to soothe the poor girl, while Raine frowned at them both then backed away. “We should go.”

  Gray checked his watch then followed behind her. “I should go too. Booked solid with hair appointments the rest of the night. You ladies okay to get home?”

  “Yep.” Issy glanced up at him. With Owen and Dex on their way to arrest Troy, things felt safer. “We’ll be fine. Go ahead and go back to work.”

  With a wave, Gray started back up the embankment after Raine.

  Ember stayed by Issy’s side and tried to help comfort Marcy. “Don’t worry, sweetie. Justice will finally be done.”

  “Yes,” Issy repeated, staring at all the toads still hopping everywhere. Given they’d solved the murders, she’d kind of expected the creatures to disappear immediately. Then again, with the vehemence attached to Adele’s initial curse, maybe it would take a little longer. Perhaps after Owen and Dex arrested Troy…

  “They took the photo album,” Marcy sobbed, still inconsolable. “Why did they have to take it? Now I have nothing to remind me of Scott. Do you think they’ll give it back to me?”

  “I don’t know.” Issy patted Marcy’s hand. Deep inside, she seriously doubted they’d return the album anytime soon, if at all, but she didn’t want to risk upsetting the poor homeless girl more. “Maybe.”

  “I wonder if that nice guy I talked to at the funeral would give me some of his pictures,” Marcy said, her tears stopping momentarily and her expression lighting. “He said he had a bunch at home. Even said he might have some pictures of Scott on an old camera he had back at that time.”

  Issy frowned. “What guy was that?”

  “That older guy who breaks stuff without touching it.”

  Issy met Ember’s startled gaze, and they both said in unison, “Jerry Blaisdale?”

  “Um, yeah.” Marcy scrunched her nose. “I think he did say his first name was Jerry.”

  “It can’t be him, though,” Ember said over the top of Marcy’s head. “He’s out of town.”

  “Really?” Marcy took the tissue Issy offered her and blew her nose. “That’s weird. Because when I went by his house after I found that album in the dumpster, a car was parked in his driveway.”

  “Are you sure it was him?” Issy asked, her gaze narrowed.

  “Not sure. I didn’t go in because of all the loud crashes inside the house.”

  Sitting back on her haunches, Issy tried to make sense of these new clues. Could Jerry be back from his vacation already? It was possible. Maybe it had only been a short, two-day deal. If he had come back early, though, he could blow Troy’s alibi out of the water, which Troy Holland would know.

  But Jerry could have done that ten years ago during the trial. Why would Troy be worried about that now? Maybe he was afraid that with Jerry’s new venture as a PI he’d want to crack a big case to prove how good he was. And what better case to crack than a ten-year-old unsolved murder?

  Suddenly, those loud crashes at Jerry’s house took on a more ominous tone. Jerry Blaisdale could be in trouble—or worse.

  The police were heading to arrest Troy, but they’d never think to look for him at Jerry’s. She pulled out her cell phone and called DeeDee, then tried to reach Owen, but there was no answer.

  “We need to go,” Issy said, without a second thought.

  Ember gave Marcy a last squeeze then followed her cousin up the embankment to their vehicle. “Where are we off to in such a hurry?”

  “Jerry’s house. There’s a real possibility he’s in grave danger and he’ll need our powerful magic to help him.”

  24

  “Would someone please tell me what the heck is going on?” Troy Holland demanded. “If you don’t explain what I’m being held for right now, I’ll have my attorneys sue this entire department for false imprisonment. I’ll have your badges. Your careers will be ov
er.”

  Dex stared at the irate guy across the interrogation table, his expression as impassive as his tone. Those threats were the same ones any other criminal made when their back was against the wall. The only difference this time was that Troy Holland and his family might have the clout to follow through. Still, Dex wouldn’t let that stop him from doing what was right. He’d allowed his duty to override his common sense once before, with disastrous results.

  “Answer the question, Mr. Holland,” Dex said, his voice flat and his words even. “Why are you missing from the photos of the internships candidates that summer ten years ago? According to your company records and witness testimony taken at the time of Sarah Landers’s murder, you were supposed to be on-site, here in Silver Hollow, helping with orientation for the new interns.”

  Troy sighed and hung his head, the fight seeming to go out of him briefly. “Okay, look. Maybe I did sneak out and go down to the Tropic Ranch with my friends that spring. We were young and stupid and impetuous. My dad was so busy back then, he didn’t notice I was even around much, except when I did something wrong or didn’t perform up to his impossibly high standards. Then, of course, he was all over me like white on rice. I wanted one last bit of fun before reality took it all away. So, I didn’t see any harm in shirking my responsibilities for a week. I went down there and had a blast with my friends. Foolish? Yes. A crime? Hardly.”

  “A crime was committed that week, though, Mr. Holland,” Owen said from the shadows of the room. “A serious crime.”

  Troy cursed under his breath and slumped back in his seat, his eyes squeezed shut. “I know where you’re going with this, but I’m telling you, I didn’t kill that girl! I would never kill anyone!”

  “Is that so?” Owen pushed away from the wall and walked over, setting an iPad down in front of Troy on the table then pushing Play. Footage from the gas station surveillance cameras streamed on endless loop, a vehicle zooming past the camera at high speed. “And I suppose you’re going to tell me next this isn’t your car?” Owen straightened and crossed his arms, his expression incredulous. “Pretty sure you’re the only guy in town with a top-of-the-line, fully loaded, fancy black Cadillac like that.”

  “Yeah, that looks like my car.” Troy glanced from the iPad to Owen then back again, his expression confused. “So what?”

  Dex narrowed his gaze on their suspect, searching for any signs of deception in his body language, any sign at all that the guy was lying. There were none he could see, but that didn’t mean anything in and of itself. If the guy had killed once already and gotten away with it, then he was good at misleading people. Very good. “That car was seen going to the Route Nine Motel this morning around the time Linda Brewer was killed.”

  Troy scowled. “Who is Linda Brewer? What time was this?”

  “This morning between eight and ten,” Owen said.

  “Well, those cameras must be wrong, then, because I was nowhere near that area this morning.” Troy shook his head and sat up a little straighter. “I was downtown, in a meeting with the mayor until at least twelve thirty. You can find it on the calendar on my phone.” He met Dex’s gaze, a brow raised. “You know, the one you confiscated. Check it. And if you still don’t believe me, then call the mayor’s office.”

  Owen gestured for Dex to join him out in the hallway. Once the door was closed, the sheriff scrubbed a hand over his face and frowned. “Do you think he’s telling the truth?”

  Dex glanced back into the room uneasily. “Be stupid to bluff about that. It’s pretty easy to verify.”

  “Well, if it wasn’t Troy, who was it then?”

  “Let me think a minute.” Dex rested his shoulder against the wall and went over all the details of the case in his head. If they’d ruled out Jerry and now Troy, the only other person with motive and access to Troy’s car was… “Len Childs.”

  “Len?” Owen said, realization dawning on his face. “Yes. That makes sense. He and Troy were each other’s alibi during the Sarah Landers murder investigation.”

  “Yep. And if Troy snuck out and headed to Florida ten years ago, it’s a sure bet Len was there too. He’s like Troy’s shadow.”

  “Wait a minute. From what the Quinn gals said, Len was the one who saw the homeless people in the dumpster earlier, so—”

  “Crap!” Dex rushed down the hallway toward his desk to grab his gun and car keys. “If Len put two and two together and realizes one of the homeless took that photo album, then he might try to go after them. Issy and her cousins are still down there at that shantytown. We need to warn them.”

  Owen hurried after him, grabbing his own weapon and shoving it in the holster at his waist before following Dex to the door. “I’ll go to Len’s place in case he’s there.”

  “Wait!” DeeDee yelled from behind them, but they were already out the door.

  Dex rushed to his Buick and started the engine, barely checking in the rearview mirror to see Owen turn off in the direction of Len Childs’s. He pressed on, lights and sirens going. Traffic stopped or slowed to allow him to pass, but the toads were another thing entirely. Every few feet, Dex would have to slam on the brakes or swerve to avoid ending up with toad guts everywhere on his vehicle.

  It took him twice as long as usual to get back to the bridge due to all the unexpected stops. His heart was in his throat by the time he finally pulled over onto the gravel berm and got out. Both Issy’s pickup and her cousin’s Jeep were gone, but knowing her, she might still be down there with the homeless. And if anything happened to Issy, he couldn’t live with himself, couldn’t live with the knowledge he’d failed twice to save those entrusted to his care.

  Flashbacks filtered into his mind of that kid. So young, so innocent, so undeserving of what had happened to him. All of it was Dex’s fault. He hadn’t listened to his gut at the time. He’d followed orders from his superiors and sat tight, instead of going to search for that poor kid like he’d wanted to. That kid had died because of Dex’s inaction.

  If Issy died, Dex would never recover.

  There was no way he could live with the soul-crushing guilt, the failure.

  With heels crunching and skidding on the loose stones, he rushed down the embankment and over to the burly bearded guy they’d questioned earlier. Ed, that was the guy’s name. He stalked to the fire barrel the man was standing at with his back to Dex and grabbed him by the arm.

  Ed swiveled fast, his fists up, ready to fight. Considering the guy had a good fifty pounds on Dex, the outcome wouldn’t have been in his favor. He was too far gone to care about his own personal safety at that point, though. All that mattered now, all that he cared about, was finding and protecting the woman he…

  What?

  Liked… Loved…

  No. Dex wasn’t ready to go there yet, despite the burst of warmth that word caused to flare inside him. He and Issy barely knew each other. And yes, the attraction was definitely there, but something more? That remained to be seen. He just prayed he wasn’t too late to find out.

  “Where’s Issy?” Dex asked, his words rushing out on a tide of adrenaline and fear. He craned his neck to see if he could spot Issy’s bright strawberry-blond curls, but there was nothing. His heart plummeted to his toes, and his pulse hammered loudly in his ears. If he was too late to save her…

  “What?” Ed asked, obviously suspicious. “Who’s Issy?”

  Dex gave the homeless man a harsh stare, his fists clenched to keep from punching the guy. “Issy Quinn. She and her cousins were here with us earlier.”

  “Oh.” Ed grinned, his teeth barely visible through his thick, matted beard. “Right. Yeah, the Quinns left a little while ago. Those two gals were sure in a hurry too. Said they needed to go check on someone named Jerry.”

  Dex turned and ran for his car.

  25

  Issy swerved to the curb near Jerry Blaisdale’s house and cut the engine. She’d expected to see Troy Holland’s black Cadillac in the driveway but instead spotted only Jerry’s red
Honda Civic. Why would he be home from Bermuda so soon?

  She and Ember got out and locked the truck then carefully made their way across the street to the house. There were no lights on, and all the drapes were pulled. Looked like no one was home.

  Ember peeked through one of the windows on the side of the home and waved Issy over. “The inside’s a mess.”

  “Jerry does have a problem with his spells,” Issy said, squinting through the gauzy curtains at the chaos inside. Papers, shattered glass, and broken furniture were strewn everywhere. “Maybe the stress of this investigation made it worse. That would explain the loud noises Marcy said she heard too.”

  “Hmm.” Ember stepped back and fussed with her turtleneck cashmere sweater. “Or maybe we’re too late and Troy Holland was already here to take care of Jerry.”

  Sighing, Issy headed around toward the breezeway near the back of the house. “Either way, I don’t think we have a choice. We need to go inside. Jerry could be in there and might need help.”

  “Agreed.” Ember crept quietly behind Issy. “Do you want me to do the unlocking spell?”

  “I got it.” Issy stood back from the door and rubbed her hands together. Eyes closed, she began reciting the spell in her head, building her power until her skin tingled and her heart thudded and then…

  Air rushed past Issy’s cheeks, followed by a loud, surprised gasp.

  That wasn’t part of the spell.

  “What’s going on, Em?” she asked her cousin.

  No answer.

  “Ember?”

  Nothing.

  Issy peeked one eye open and noticed two things simultaneously. First, the door to the breezeway was open. Second, Ember was nowhere to be found.

  Springing into action, Issy rushed through the open doorway and peered through the murky darkness inside. Perhaps that strong breeze had pushed the door open and Ember had headed into the house. No, that couldn’t have been right. Ember wouldn’t have rushed in without Issy. Pulse quickening, Issy tiptoed down the dark breezeway, keeping one hand on the stucco wall to orient herself. “Ember?” she whispered. “Are you in here?”