02-A Spirited Tail

by Leighann Dobbs

  "I guess she must sense that he's in distress," I said. "I have to admit, I was leery of bringing him here because I didn't know how she'd react, but it looks like they're getting along."

  "Well, at least she's tolerating him for now," Striker said. "Are you going to keep him?"

  I munched on the last cracker thoughtfully. "I don't think so. I'm hoping Bruce had some relatives that might want him."

  "Gus said Bruce had no next of kin."

  "Oh, that’s kind of sad." I glanced at Ranger, wondering what would happen to him now. He moved his eyes in my direction and my heart pinched. "I guess it's up to me to find Ranger a good home, then."

  Striker raised his left brow and I realized that he didn't have a pet. Everyone should have a pet. I glanced from Striker to Ranger, mentally sizing them up as a potential match, but decided it was too soon to mention it to Striker.

  "I heard Bruce was a recluse," I said. "I guess that explains why I didn't know him. But Hattie and Cordelia said they thought he might have been getting dementia and just wandered onto the property."

  Striker pressed his lips together. "Maybe. Of course, whether he wandered there or went there on purpose doesn’t really matter so much. What we need to find out is why the other person–his killer—was there."

  I saw the perfect opening and took it. Plastering on my most innocent voice, I asked,"Got any clues as to who that might be?"

  Striker shrugged. "I really shouldn’t discuss it, but I can tell you no witnesses have come forward and there're very few clues. Gertie estimated the time of death at two a.m. and Ruth Walters said she saw a yellow car drive by, but swears it was closer to six. She claims people were racing up and down the road all night and suggested we put up a speed trap."

  I snorted. "Well, that’s not the first time Ruth has suggested that. One car goes by and she complains that they've been drag racing up the road all night."

  "That’s what Gus said, so I'm taking her testimony with a grain of salt."

  "Probably a good idea." I pulled an empty chair out from the table and gritted my teeth as I swung my leg up onto it. I angled my chair to be more comfortable, and something glowing in the living room caught my eye. The round sphere on my coffee table had caught the setting sun from the window and was reflecting lovely gold and pink light into the room. The sphere—I guessed it was some sort of paperweight—had been a gift from my grandmother's friend and neighbor, Elspeth Whipple, and I made a mental note to check on the old woman. Gram had asked me to do that in her will and I hadn't looked in for a few days.

  "That’s hurting you," Striker leaned forward and pushed my pant leg up to my knee. "I told you, you should keep massaging it."

  "Uh-huh." I closed my eyes as he pressed his thumbs deep into the tissue, providing what I could only describe as 'painful relief'. "Do you think Bruce's murder could be related to the murders during Charles Van Dorn's time?"

  "Murders? I thought one person was murdered and Charles confessed and killed himself."

  "Right." I couldn’t tell him that Charles himself claimed differently. "Don't you find it odd the two victims both had that symbol on their forehead?"

  "They did?"

  "Yeah. You didn't know?" I felt a momentary surge of superiority, thinking I'd out-investigated the police.

  Striker narrowed his eyes at me. "No. What do you know about it?"

  "The morning bookstore gang told me about the symbol. Apparently, it all had something to do with Charles Van Dorn's career as a medium. Lily had the same symbol on her head as Bruce did. They thought it was some sort of curse."

  Striker laughed. "You don't believe in all that mumbo-jumbo, do you?"

  Yes.

  "No." I wasn't ready to reveal my secret pastime of talking to ghosts to Striker yet.

  "Anyway, it's unlikely the two crimes would be done by the same person as the original killer would have to be at least seventy years old by now. I don't know if they would have the strength to swing hard enough to wield the blow that killed Bruce Norton. But the markings are an odd coincidence. Our new killer must have known about the original case."

  "Right. So, what did kill him? I mean, what was the murder weapon?"

  Striker looked at me sideways as he worked his way up my leg, past the knee to my thigh, his face getting closer and closer to mine. "Sorry, Chance, that’s privileged information. I can't give you all the clues. Besides, I don't want you to have too many of them or you might go off investigating on your own. And I can't have you doing that."

  And with that, he leaned in and pressed his lips against mine. The relaxing after-effects of the massage and the feeling of his soft, warm lips must have gone right to my head because I forgot all about clues, murders and the Van Dorn curse.

  ***

  Pandora glanced up at Willa and Striker, her whiskers twitching in disdain. Didn't they know lips were for helping to pull the fur off mice? She turned her attention back to Ranger, ignoring the strange noises the two humans were making.

  "You really should eat, you know. You won't be able to keep your strength up."

  "Why would I need strength? I lost my master and now I have no one and no purpose."

  Pandora let out a sigh. She was finding Ranger's doldrums to be quite tiresome. "Well, you could get a new master."

  "Who would want me? I couldn’t save my old master. Certainly no one will want a dog like that."

  Ahhh, so that’s the problem, Pandora thought. Ranger just needed a little boost of confidence. And she'd have to be the one to give it to him, otherwise he might never find another home and she sure as heck didn't want him spending the rest of his days in hers. Not that he was that bad … he was tolerable. But she was set in her ways and used to having Willa to herself.

  "Maybe you couldn’t keep your master from being murdered, but you still might be able to help him."

  Ranger picked his head up off the floor and eyed her skeptically. "What do you mean?"

  "You could help find his killer and make sure he's brought to justice."

  "How would I do that?"

  Pandora rolled her eyes. She'd forgotten dogs were used to being led around on leashes by humans. She realized they must have a hard time thinking for themselves, which meant she'd have to do all the brain work and let Ranger think it was his idea.

  She picked up her paw, licking the pink, callused pads underneath. "I guess you would do what humans do … visit the scene of the crime and look for clues."

  The golden fur in between Ranger's eyes ruffled together and Pandora could see he was giving it great thought.

  "What kind of clues?"

  Pandora let out an exasperated sigh. Would she have to do everything?

  "I’ll help you look. Do you think you can show me where the special house is?" While Pandora wanted to help the dog get out of his funk, the truth was she also wanted to check out this 'special house'. She was filled with curiosity about it. And also about the murder. Something told her she'd best keep close tabs on the situation and Ranger seemed to have the most information.

  "I might be able to," Ranger said cautiously. He wondered if he could trust the cat … he'd heard they could be furtive and sneaky. But the idea of avenging his master's death appealed to him and he wasn't sure to go about it on his own.

  "Good." Pandora nodded toward the bowl Willa had filled with dog food. "Then you should try to eat something … you may need the energy."

  ***

  Pandora knew Ranger wouldn’t be able to fit through the cat door, so later that night after the humans had gone upstairs, she took him through her secret escape route in the basement. He barely fit through the loose board that led into the root cellar—where Willa never went—and almost didn't make it out the narrow tunnel Pandora had spent all of last summer digging.

  At first, he wasn't sure of which direction to go, but once Pandora got him to focus, he honed in on the special place and they trotted off up the mountain.

  "I really miss my master, but Wi
lla seems nice," Ranger said as they ran through the woods, using the stars as navigation points. "Maybe things aren't as bad as they seemed yesterday."

  Pandora slid her eyes over toward him, her whiskers twitching. She was glad the dog was coming out of his funk, but not glad enough to want to share her home with him. Or her human. Sure, he might come in handy for blaming things on, but she doubted Willa would believe he was the one that threw up a hairball on her new bedspread or left the headless mouse on the porch.

  "Willa is nice, but you need a new master, not mistress," Pandora said.

  "I don't deserve either." He stopped and sniffed the air. "The special place is up ahead."

  They spilled out of the woods and Pandora paused at the edge of the yard. A large brick house loomed in the distance and a variety of smells hovered in the air.

  "Wait here," she said.

  Pandora sniffed the air. Slinking low on her belly, she skirted the edge of the yard, moving in circles closer and closer to the house. The cloying smell of death lingered, but it wasn't strong. She smelled anger, fear, greed and betrayal. But none of that was here now. Satisfied that no other souls, human or otherwise, were in the yard or the house, she signaled for Ranger to join her.

  "This is where it happened." Ranger stopped in a spot behind the house where the tall grass had been trampled down. Pandora could smell many humans, their scents and emotions intermingled, making it impossible to single out that of the killer or Ranger's former master. If she had been able to, she might have at least gotten a clue as to if Bruce knew his killer or the emotions surrounding the murder.

  She glanced at the large house which loomed over them, silhouetted by the full moon. Her whiskers tingled. The hairs on her back stood up with static electricity.

  Something important was in that house.

  Not something to do with the murder, though. This was something bigger than that—this had to do with her purpose of helping the humans keep the scales of good and evil balanced on the side of good.

  Should she go in? A quick glance at the house told her there would be many ways she could slip inside, but she had no idea what to look for. Better to wait and seek advice from the others of her kind.

  She turned to Ranger. "Why is this house special?"

  "I'm not sure." Ranger's eyes clouded over. "Master used to take me for walks here all the time. I could feel he thought it was special. He told me he used to come here when people lived here. Good times."

  "But he never said why it was special?"

  "No, but I could feel it. The house and the special thing he had at home."

  Special thing at home? Pandora narrowed her eyes at the dog. How many 'special things' did his master have? She wondered if the special thing at home was related to whatever it was she sensed in the house. She would have to see if Ranger could take her there and show her.

  "You lived nearby?" she asked.

  "Yes." Ranger looked off to the west, his eyes moist.

  "Can you take me there and show me the special thing?"

  Ranger whined, nodded his head and started off to the west. Pandora remembered the reason they'd come—she still needed to help him solve the murder or he might never find a new master. "Not yet. First tell me what you remember from that night your master was killed."

  "I followed the rabbit smells. Master lets me off the leash here when we come. There are rabbits that live here. I heard the voices, but I was chasing the rabbits." Ranger’s ears lowered and he looked at the ground, his head hanging. "When I came back, Master was laying on the ground. I licked his face, but he did not move. I smelled death."

  Pandora nodded sympathetically. "And you never saw the other man?"

  Ranger shook his head, his eyes still cast downward.

  "Did you stay with your master the whole time?"

  Ranger frowned. "No. I followed the man's scent in two directions, but I did not find him. Then I came back and stayed with Master."

  "Two directions?" Pandora wondered why the man would have gone in two directions. Wouldn’t he have killed Bruce and run away? She assumed he had a car so one of the directions would have been the driveway, but what was the other? "Show me which directions."

  Ranger nodded toward the front of the house. "That way."

  "The driveway. He probably drove away in a car."

  Ranger nodded. He'd already figured that out on his own. Then he jerked his head toward the woods on the other side of the road. "And that way."

  Pandora squinted at the woods. Why would the man go over there? She could think of only one reason.

  "Can you still follow his scent?" she asked.

  Ranger sniffed at the ground. He walked around the trampled area in a circle his nose twitching as he tried to pick up the scent. "Maybe. It's not strong, but I will try."

  "Good, let's see where he went in the woods. I think it might help us find out who it was."

  Ranger's ears perked up and he sniffed even harder, leading Pandora up the road and into the woods to an area near the shallow river. They didn't have to go far before a coppery odor flooded Pandora's senses. Blood.

  They both stopped, Pandora honing in on the origin of the blood smell and Ranger sniffing in circles to pick up the trail.

  "This is where his scent trail ends, isn’t it?" she asked Ranger.

  "I think so."

  Pandora knew why. The murder weapon was here somewhere. She could sense that people had been here searching and assumed it was the police. They'd looked for the murder weapon but not found it and she knew why. It was buried, right beneath where she was standing, cleverly covered up with leaves and forest debris so no one would notice the ground had been dug up. She herself wouldn’t have noticed if she hadn't smelled it with her finely tuned senses. It was no wonder the police had not discovered it.

  "Help me dig here." She pointed to a spot in the ground and Ranger used his powerful claws to dig. He didn't have to go far before he hit something—a heavy piece of white-painted wood that looked like it came from one of Van Dorn's porch columns.

  "Hold it." The blood smell was stronger and Pandora could see the dirt caked on one end of it along with something that looked like it had been sticky—blood.

  Ranger sniffed and started to whine. "Master!"

  "You did well," Pandora said to him.

  "I did?"

  "You found the murder weapon. This will help the police find the killer of your master."

  Ranger's ears perked up and he held his head high. "Good dog?"

  "Yep." Pandora answered. "Now that we have that taken care of, can you take me to where you lived and show me the special thing your master had?"

  "Woof!" Ranger started back toward the house with a spring in his step.

  Pandora followed him, glancing back at the partially uncovered column. She was sure it had been used to kill Bruce Norton and probably held a clue as to the killer’s identity. But, the police had already searched here and she doubted they'd be back, which left her with only one solution. Somehow, she was going to have to lure Willa into these woods so she could discover the weapon and hand it over to the police.

  Chapter Eight

  I woke up wondering about the murder weapon. Striker wouldn’t tell me what exactly it was, but obviously, Bruce had been hit on the back of the head. Striker alluded to the fact that the blow had killed Bruce, so I imagined it must have been something large and heavy. A shovel, baseball bat, or board maybe? Not that I was trying to solve Bruce's murder … I had enough problems trying to solve Van Dorn's.

  I made it in to the bookstore early so I could get a jump-start on inventorying some new books. Ranger listlessly sniffed the purple sofa and chairs, then curled up in a corner. He seemed incredibly tired and still a little depressed, but I took solace in the fact that he'd eaten a little bit of the food in his bowl and had at least sniffed the furniture—maybe he was starting to feel better.

  I slipped behind the counter and Pandora jumped up on it, taking an unusual intere
st in the blue and white stoneware mug that held my pens and pencils. She sniffed the sides, then stuck her face into the middle, pushed the pens aside and sniffed some more. Finally, she looked straight at me, shot her paw out and pushed the mug off the counter. It smashed to the floor in a clatter of ceramic shards, pens and pencils.

  "Pandora!" I leaned over the counter to see pens rolling every which way.

  Pandora calmly jumped down from the counter, padded over to her cat bed in the windowsill and curled up.

  What the heck had gotten into her? I wondered if it was her way of protesting Ranger's presence. Funny, though, she didn't seem to mind him … she hadn't really hissed at him or anything. It actually seemed like they were getting along and I could have sworn they exchanged a look right after she pushed the mug off. That was probably my overactive imagination. I was pretty sure dogs and cats didn't exchange 'looks'.

  Whatever the reason, I noticed they were both fast asleep before I finished picking up the mess. Both of them seemed to be unusually tired today. I resumed my activities behind the counter and was engrossed in adding up my sales for the week when the regulars came in.

  "Morning, Willa." Bing slid a Styrofoam cup across the counter toward me. "Have you been back to Van Dorn's?"

  "I went back last night." I raised the coffee cup up. "Thanks for the coffee."

  "And?" Bing's left brow ticked up a notch.

  "I didn't find any journals." I considered telling him about the letters but that didn't seem right. The more I thought about it, the more I realized those letters were personal to Charles. He'd hidden them for a reason and it wasn't for me to be blabbing it all around town.

  "Did you meet the nephew?" Hattie asked from where she was perched on the edge of the purple sofa.

  "Yes. He was ransacking the kitchen for stuff to sell on eBay."

  "I saw an old ashtray from the Van Dorn estate going for over two hundred dollars this morning!" Cordelia said.