02-A Spirited Tail

by Leighann Dobbs

  "This is the room." I angled my head to inspect the Oriental rug. I could barely discern a stained area, which the pattern did a good job of masking.

  We searched the drawers and closet—all empty. Feeling discouraged, I got down on my hands and knees to look into the dark crevices of the closet. Maybe something had rolled in there? I stretched to reach into the corners, my spirits sinking when I came up empty.

  "There's nothing in here." I turned back to the room. From my perspective seated on the floor, I had a clear view under the furniture and a spark of light under the bed caught my eye.

  "Wait a minute." I crawled over and stretched my arm under the bed, feeling around. My fingers brushed against something cold and smooth. I inched under a bit more and grabbed it, pulling my arm out to find a small, silver jar in my hand. It was empty with no cap, but a label on the front read 'pounce'.

  "What the heck is pounce?" Steve asked. "Is that something for cats?"

  I laughed. "No. Its for ink … fountain pens or quill pens. It helps the ink dry. This one is small so you could carry it in your purse." I looked around the dressers for evidence of fountain pens, but the surfaces were bare. "A lot of people like to dabble with ink and fountain pens and use old school methods, such as helping the ink dry with pounce. I guess Lily must have been one of them. A lot of people used fountain pens back then because roller pens were fairly new."

  "Oh. Well, she sure wasn't killed with a pen."

  "No, that’s for sure. I guess it was a long shot to find a clue here, anyway."

  "Yeah." Steve looked as disappointed as I felt. "Hey, we still have the photo album."

  I brightened. "Yeah, let’s go check that out."

  Unlike the album in the library that had informal, candid shots, this album was filled with pictures taken at various parties. The pictures seemed more posed, almost as if they might be for publicity, and the people were dressed to the nines. The photographs were mostly black and white, held into the book by little corner pieces that had been pasted on the thick, black pages. I saw a lot of the same faces—those must have been the 'regulars'. Some of the pictures had handwritten notations in white ink.

  I wondered which one was Bruce. Since I'd only seen him in death with graffiti on his forehead, it was hard to tell. I scanned the writing under the pictures and found him—a tall, handsome man in a nicely tailored suit that appeared with Charles a lot. They must have been good friends. No wonder he was looking into his murder.

  "Looks like they had some fun parties," I said.

  "Yeah. Very fancy." Steve pointed to the full-skirted cocktail dress on one of the women.

  "Is that Emma?" It was hard to think of the tiny, old church lady as ever being young.

  "I don't know, but here's Gladys." Steve pointed to a woman in a plain dress standing in the background of several of the pictures.

  "And this looks like Lily." She was much more beautiful in this picture as compared to the one I'd seen at my shop.

  Another woman who appeared in many of the pictures stood out. She wore extravagant flapper-style dresses, even though they must have been out of style when the pictures were taken fifty years ago. I noticed she also had an armful of bracelets and several necklaces.

  I did a double-take and brought the photo closer to my face. I recognized one of those necklaces—intertwined serpents with a chalcedony stone in the middle.

  My eyes flew to the handwritten note under the photo naming the people. My heart skidded in surprise when I saw the name 'Claire Voyant' and then I recognized who she was.

  Charles' rival, Claire Voyant, was actually Claire Smith-Baker.

  ***

  "This woman here was your uncle’s rival back then." I pointed to the picture of Claire.

  "Why would he invite his rival to his parties?" Steve asked.

  I pressed my lips together. "I was wondering that same thing. I saw a newspaper article about them, but maybe the party was before they became rivals. They might have been friends that had some sort of falling out."

  This sure did add a twist to the story. Could Claire have had something to do with Charles’ death? She was in town … maybe she'd even been here when Bruce was killed.

  I don't have time to think about this new twist, because just then Ranger started barking like crazy at the window.

  "What's that about?" Steve jumped up and ran to the window.

  I joined him and looked out to see Pandora in the side yard, chasing a butterfly.

  "Oh, it’s just a cat," Steve said.

  "Not just any cat … my cat," I said, wondering how Pandora had gotten all the way out here. Had she stowed away in my jeep? I guess that explained why she was nowhere to be found when I left the shop.

  Ranger looked up at me, panting and wagging his tail.

  I narrowed my eyes at the Golden Retriever. "Did you know about this?"

  "Woof!"

  "I had better go get her." I wasn't sure what I was going to do with her when I got her. Drive her back to the store and make sure the cat door was locked, I supposed. I didn't want to leave her loose here for fear she would wander out into the woods and get lost.

  "I'm good at catching cats," Steve said, and the three of us headed out the front door.

  Pandora was in midair when we spilled out onto the porch and she turned her head in our direction, then landed on all fours, facing us. Ranger trotted over to her and the two of them sniffed a greeting.

  "Pandora, come," I commanded.

  She looked at me, flicked her right ear and then turned her back, flitting off to smell a tall weed, her tail up straight like an exclamation point, the kinked end pointing toward the woods up the road.

  "Let me try." Steve slowly walked down the porch steps toward Pandora, who blinked at him inquisitively. When he got within three feet of her, he crouched down, holding his hand out. "Hi, Pandora."

  She inched forward, cautiously sniffing his hand, but when he made a move to scoop her up, she darted away, shooting me a reproachful look.

  Steve stood up. "We may have to try to corner her."

  At those words, Pandora let out a haughty meow and flounced away toward the end of the yard, Ranger following behind her.

  "Pandora! Ranger! No!" My heart plummeted. They were heading toward the road, and even though there wasn't any traffic to speak of, I still didn't want them out there.

  My shouting only made them go faster and I bolted off the steps after them with Steve following behind. They ran to the road and took a right, almost as if they knew where they were going.

  "Crap," I said and started running faster. The woods were deep up here. Panic lapped at my gut as I realized that if they got lost in there, we might never find them.

  They had turned into the woods near the pumping station and were headed to the west, Pandora in the lead, her kinked tail bobbing up and down as if pointing the way. Ranger followed happily with his nose to the ground. Steve and I navigated the woodsy terrain, cursing loudly. Finally, I could hear the sound of the river. Pandora slowed her pace to a trot and we were able to catch our breath, but not catch up to the animals.

  "Pandora, please stop!" I gasped, trying to suck enough air into my lungs to keep me powered.

  And then, mercifully, she stopped. She and Ranger looked at the ground and then at each other. Pandora stuck out a paw and batted some leaves around, revealing the ground beneath which had been freshly dug.

  "Meow!" Pandora put on her cutest look and rubbed against my ankles, then trotted back to the leaves and then back to me.

  "What's that?" Steve asked between breaths from his bent over, hands on knees position.

  "I'm not sure." I squatted to get a closer look. A long, wooden piece was halfway buried under the leaves. My heart stuttered as I brushed the leaves aside and recognized what it was. A board, but not just any board. One of the porch columns from the Van Dorn house … and, if I wasn't mistaken, the end was covered in blood.

  ***

  "Is that what I
think it is?" Steve squinted down at the piece of wood.

  "Yep. This could be the murder weapon that killed Bruce Norton."

  "Meow!" Pandora purred proudly.

  I reached out to pet her and this time she didn't dart away. "Yes, you did good."

  "How strange," Steve said, stroking Ranger. "It's almost as if they led us to it."

  "Yeah. Weird." I eyed Pandora suspiciously. "We need to call the police."

  I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket and checked for a signal. No bars. "There's no signal here, let's go back to the road and see if we can call out."

  I looked around to get my bearings so I could lead the police back to where the column was. On the right, I could see the gaging station about three hundred feet away. That would be my landmark. We headed out of the woods, this time with Ranger and Pandora trotting beside us obediently. As we approached the road, I saw a black car lurking on the side.

  "Hey!" I broke into a run, intending to yell at Felicity and Claire and tell them to stop following me, but the car sped off as soon as it saw me coming out of the woods.

  "Who was that?" Steve asked as we watched the car disappear in a cloud of dust.

  "I'm not sure, but I think it's Felicity Bates—she's been following me."

  "Why? And who is she?"

  "I'm not sure why. We’ve had sort of an ongoing feud. And not only that, but she's been hanging around with your uncle’s rival, Claire, except she calls herself Claire Smith-Baker now."

  Steve's brow wrinkled. "The lady from the pictures? Why would she change her name and what would she be doing around here?"

  "I have no idea, but she just earned a spot on my suspect list." I glanced down at my cell phone. Three bars. I punched in Augusta's number, bracing myself for the onslaught of her disapproval.

  We brought the animals back to Van Dorn's and put them in the house, then waited at the end of the road for Gus. I figured Pandora could keep herself busy sniffing around inside the house and hoped she wouldn’t get out and wander off.

  It didn't take long before the brown Sheriff's car turned the corner, with a black SUV behind it that made my heart flip—Striker.

  Gus got out of the driver’s seat, scowling in my direction. She was all business. "Okay, where is this murder weapon?"

  "We're not sure that’s what it is,” I pointed out.

  "Right. Well, show me where it is and we'll figure that out."

  Striker had gotten out of his SUV, his brows raised at me.

  "Chance, how come you always seem to be finding dead bodies and murder weapons?" He teased me good-naturedly and I just shrugged as we all started off toward the road. Jimmy jumped out of the passenger seat and bounded over to join us. It might have been my imagination, but I thought he shot me a conspiratorial wink behind Augusta's back.

  We followed the tamped-down undergrowth and easily found the spot in the woods.

  "You guys stay back." Augusta barked the order toward Steve and me while she squatted to inspect the board. Jimmy whipped out a camera and took pictures from various angles. Striker stood beside me, watching.

  "So what were you two doing way out in the woods, anyway?" Striker's left brow ticked up as his gray eyes drilled into mine.

  I felt my face flush. What was he getting at?

  Steve chuckled. "Nothing like that. We were chasing Willa's cat and Ranger. They're actually the ones that dug this up."

  Augusta frowned at me. She was hard to please. Here I'd delivered the murder weapon practically to her front door and she was still giving me a sour face.

  "You don't seem very happy about finding the murder weapon," I said.

  "I'm happy the murder weapon was found, just not that you were the one to find it." She motioned to Jimmy, who carefully picked up the weapon with latex-gloved hands. It was about twice the thickness of a baseball bat and about three feet long—large enough for even a small person like Gladys to get enough momentum to swing and crack a skull.

  "We need to section off the area and do a grid search," Striker said. "There could be other clues and they're going to be hard to find with all this undergrowth."

  "Maybe we could just have Willa lend us her cat," Gus said sarcastically.

  I laughed along with everyone else, but I had to wonder … this wasn't the first time Pandora had led me to a vital clue in a murder case.

  "I’ll need statements from the two of you." Gus gestured to Steve and me. "Jimmy, maybe you can drop the evidence back at the car and get their statements."

  "Sure thing." Jimmy made an 'after-you' gesture with his free hand and we started toward the road.

  Jimmy separated us as per police protocol and I waited in the driveway while he took Steve's statement inside. Steve stayed in the house and Jimmy came out, notebook in hand.

  "That was pretty good work," he said. "How did you know the murder weapon was there?"

  "Well, actually, I didn't. Not really. Les Price had told me his father thought Gladys hid something at the gaging station back fifty years ago, and I figured if it worked back then, she might think it would work now."

  Jimmy glanced up the road in the direction of the station. "So we might find some evidence for Charles’ and Lily's murders there, too?"

  I shrugged. "Maybe."

  Jimmy nodded, then narrowed his eyes at me. "But how did you find exactly where it was? That’s a pretty big area and the police have already done a search here."

  "Oh, that really was Pandora. She must have stowed away in my car or something and I saw her here out in the yard. When I came out to capture her, she ran off. I chased her and she and Ranger stopped at the weapon to sniff it." I realize that Pandora had unwittingly given me the perfect excuse to find the murder weapon … sometimes her disobedient behavior did come in handy.

  Jimmy frowned. "That’s what Steve said."

  "Yes, it’s true," I said. "So, now what?"

  "We'll take it in, test it to see of that dark stuff is Bruce's blood and see if we can get any DNA. Then, hopefully we can use that DNA to find the killer.

  "How are you going to do that?"

  "Well, normally, we have the suspects give us samples … but we haven't done that with Gladys." Jimmy glanced uneasily up the road. "Gus doesn’t even know she is a suspect."

  I pursed my lips. "Right! I doubt she is going to listen to me. So without a sample from Gladys, how are we going to prove that it was or wasn't her?"

  Jimmy looked down at his notebook, his lips moving as if he was having a silent argument with himself. Then he looked up, a light blazing in his eye that I hadn't seen before.

  "I might have to get creative. Leave that to me."

  Chapter Twenty-One

  I got home right around supper and fed the animals, then laced up my white Keds and headed out on the shortcut through the woods to Elspeth's. The sun was low in the sky with only a few hours of daylight left and it slanted through the trees, leaving long shadows and flickers of golden light.

  Pandora usually accompanied me to Elspeth's—she liked to hang around with Elspeth's many cats. Tonight was no exception, and she trotted along happily beside me. Ranger, not wanting to be left out, came along as well. I let him off the leash after a few minutes and he obediently stuck with us.

  The shade of the dense forest cooled the hot summer night and perfumed the air with the smell of pine needles and damp earth. As I picked my way along the barely visible path, I thought about the murder weapon and the pictures I'd seen with Claire Smith-Baker. I didn't think it was any coincidence that she showed up in town now under a different name. Why the change of name? Did she have something to hide? And why was she following me?

  Could she have been the one those love letters were written to? She was pretty keen to get those journals. She didn't mention the love letters, but what if that was what she actually meant? Or maybe there was something in the journals that linked her to Charles.

  Still, that didn't make much sense. Why would she care about some old love let
ters … unless they incriminated her in Charles or Lily's death in some way? And if so, could she have killed Bruce? Maybe Gladys wasn't the killer after all, though Les had said his father mentioned her suspicious activity near the stream gaging station. We'd only found the porch piece that looked like it was the weapon used on Bruce. Oddly enough, it looked like it had been buried and then dug up again, which was weird. Maybe the police would find more evidence in there that linked the two murders and, hopefully, reveal the killer.

  I came to the edge of the forest, my head full of questions. Maybe Elspeth could answer some of them and once the police looked at the murder weapon, it might answer the rest. I couldn’t help but smile as I looked at Elspeth's house. The old Victorian always reminded me of the gingerbread house in Hansel and Gretel, with its large wrap-around porch, intricate gingerbread molding decorating the roofline and wedges of filigree at the corners of the porch posts. The porch railings had been taken over by meandering rose bushes and were alive with lush, fragrant pink roses. To make it even more enchanting, Elspeth had it painted in pale green with pink and white trim, and she kept it neat as a pin.

  As I approached, I could see Elspeth coming up from her garden, a basket overflowing with plump, red tomatoes dangling in the crook of her arm. My mouth started to water at the sight of them. She spotted me and waved, her face youthful even though she was in her eighties. Or even older. I realized I didn't actually know how old Elspeth was—it seemed like she had been 'old' since I was little and hung around with her and Gram, but of course, when you are a kid, anyone over the age of twenty seems old.

  My mind drifted to the photo albums I'd seen at the Van Dorn's. Bing had said Elspeth knew him well. Had she been in some of those pictures? I hadn't recognized her if she was.

  "Hi, Willa. How are you?" She'd stopped at the porch steps, waiting for me to complete the trek across her yard.

  "Great. You?"

  "Wonderful." She bent down and rubbed Pandora behind the ears, then turned to Ranger. "And who is this?"