by Eryn Scott
“Didn’t think so,” I muttered after taking a bite off the top scoop of ice cream and letting it melt in my mouth. “This case is a doozy, though, Meow. Jolene’s not looking good. The woman not only had a motive, but the best opportunity to put the poison into the drinks.”
Meow flicked his tail.
“I know, I don’t believe she did it either. I haven’t known her as long as the rest of you, but she seems like a kind lady. I wish I knew what poison it was that killed Murray. That might help prove her innocence.”
Meow’s eyelids slid closed as he lifted his face to the early evening sun.
“And then there’s Tabitha.” I tsked, licking my ice cream again.
Meow opened one eye.
“Good, I’m glad I’m not the only one who sees through her. I don’t care if everyone and their brother was in love with the woman at some point in their lives, there’s too much evidence pointing at her for the chief to have cleared her as a suspect.” A line of blackberry ice cream dripped down the side of my cone and I caught it with my tongue. After that, I quickened the pace at which I ate, the heat working quicker than I’d expected.
“I want to believe that the chief is a moral guy, that he wouldn’t be involved in anything sketchy, but his choice to let her go is too much,” I said, after doing another check to make sure I was still alone.
Meow laid his head on his outstretched foot and tail, but he kept his eyes open and locked on me.
“Now there’s this Geoff guy who just got out of jail, and then the guy who put him there is dead, and my grandma’s shed is burned.”
I shook my head, biting into the first bit of waffle cone.
“He couldn’t hurt my grandma since she’s already gone, but he might not have known that since he’s been in prison for so long.”
The cat ghost’s eyes fluttered closed again, but the way his ears swiveled as I spoke let me know he was still listening.
A family walked by, chatting as they held their own set of ice cream cones. I raised mine as they passed. Once we were in the clear, I leaned closer to Meow.
“And then there’s the awful, terrible, no-good scenario I can’t get out of my mind.”
The cat opened one eye but didn’t move.
“Why was the chief so close by that morning? He’d said he was getting coffee at the Marina Mug, but that’s all the way on the other side of downtown. So why was he at Jolene’s that morning? He hates tea.” I glanced over at the Pebble Cove Tea Company building, dark in its closed state. “What if the chief and Tabitha worked together to get rid of Murray?” I asked, feeling a tingle of fear dance up my spine.
“A police chief would do no such thing! I should have you arrested just for saying that!” a voice bellowed from behind me.
My heart froze. But right away, I realized the same thing I’d figured out in the police station the other day. It wasn’t the chief’s voice. At least, not the current chief.
I also remembered that he didn’t know I could see or hear him, something I might actually be able to use to my advantage. A scheme formed in my mind, and I was glad I hadn’t given in to my urge to reach out and pet Meow. For all the ghost chief knew, I was just a person talking to myself on a park bench.
Without turning around or reacting too much to his words, I continued to talk to myself.
“The police here do have a reputation of being corrupt,” I added, watching out of the corner of my eye as the ghost of Chief Butler strode over to me.
Hearing this, his back straightened, and he let out a phlegmy throat noise. “Oh, how I wish we still used corporal punishment. I would give you the worst of it, young woman.” He got in my face and sneered.
I didn’t doubt he would. The man had been physically abusive to Lois, and was the reason she was dead. I sat back, trying hard to pretend there wasn’t an angry spirit mere inches from my face.
I brought my ice cream cone up to my lips, taking another bite of the waffle cone. The cone and my hand wafted through the old police chief’s face as I did so, and I fought to suppress the shiver after passing through him.
I held my breath as the chief glanced down at Meow, napping next to me on the bench.
“I remember you,” the ghost said, moving back a few feet, crossing his arms over his chest as he returned his attention to me. “You’re that nosy local gumshoe trying to get information at my station the other day.” His somber features folded into a scowl. “Up to the same tricks, I see.”
I licked my ice cream for a few moments, looking around at the scenery of the cove, trying to think of what to say next.
Then it hit me. I could use the ghost chief’s disdain for me, and his need to be right, against him. If I acted like the know-it-all he thought I was, maybe he’d correct me with the real facts of the case and hand me the answers I needed, mainly what had killed Murray.
“It’s a simple case, really. I’ve figured out the whole thing,” I said, pretending to be talking to myself again. “The only part I can’t figure out is how Chief Clemenson could’ve gotten the cyanide into the drinks without being seen.” I tipped my head to the side and ate the last bite of my ice cream.
I hoped naming Clemenson as the killer was wrong. I knew cyanide was incorrect. Murray had complained of the tea tasting like grass, but he’d said nothing about almonds. Whatever poison the killer had used wasn’t one that had a recognizable smell or taste.
I waited for the ghost chief to spill the name of the real poison. He had to know if he hung out inside the station most of the time.
Falling into my trap, a booming laugh escaped his lips. “Shows what you know, busybody. You’ve got the poison all wrong.”
I waited, holding my breath, as I willed his words to come.
He leaned closer until his face was mere inches from mine again. If he’d had breath, I’d be able to smell it from there. I feigned looking at my watch since I no longer had the ice cream to keep me occupied.
“And that’s why you’ll never figure out who did this,” said the chief as he backed away from me.
I allowed myself to exhale but didn’t slap my hand onto the bench in defeat, like I wanted to, since he was still here. Dang it, I really thought that would work. And if Lois wouldn’t go inside for me, how else was I going to find out what kind of poison had killed Murray?
Meow stood, stretching from his short nap. He sat and blinked at Chief Butler.
The ghostly chief snorted and turned to Meow. “And that’s exactly why women are meant to be seen, not heard.” He let out another laugh as he floated off toward the station again.
I pursed my lips to hide my frustration. It turned out I wasn’t the only one who liked to share my innermost thoughts with the former mayor. And even though I thought it wasn’t possible for me to dislike the ghost chief any more than I already did, that comment had done the trick.
12
Despite the temptation to sit in the sun longer and relax with Meow, I said my goodbyes to the cat and went to my car.
I had things to do.
A man had been murdered, Lois was still missing, and an arsonist was on the loose. Name of the poison or no name of the poison, I needed to figure out who’d done this to Murray and fast. The stakes climbed daily.
I drove home as quickly as the winding coastal roads would allow.
Pacing through the tea shop, I realized there was only one thing I could do. Chief Clemenson was still investigating Jolene and now Geoff. He’d admitted as much. And, assuming he wanted to catch Murray’s killer at all, I had to trust him to do that part of the job.
Which meant I had to be the one to look into Tabby, just like Carl had said. I could do that, right? One suspect was much easier than three.
I tapped out a nervous rhythm with my fingers on the counter as I thought through my plan. Carl had mentioned Murray’s house was just on the other side of Misty Drive from us. He also mentioned Tabby would be living there.
The thought of breaking and entering, as Carl was so ready to do
before, made my stomach clench tight with worry. There was no telling what the Chief would do if he caught me.
So breaking in wasn’t an option, which meant I needed Tabby to invite me inside. I would have to talk to her. This took Carl out of the running as a sidekick. Having experienced his disdain for the woman, there was no way he’d be able to keep his cool around her long enough to get any useful information. And Daphne was also out. The woman would never agree to go with me unless I shared all my theories and secrets. I didn’t have time to fill her in nor did I want my involvement in the case broadcast to the entire town.
I wished Asher were here. Even having Meow by my side would be better than nothing, but I doubted the cat had ever been to any of the houses down this way.
It looked like I was on my own … going to the home of a possible murderer. Great. I reached for a bag of tea to take as a gift. I was simply a concerned neighbor, coming over to check on her.
Even though I was bringing tea, I reminded myself not to drink anything the woman handed me, knowing that Tabby may have poisoned Murray. This thought gave me a little boost in confidence. She hadn’t bashed the man over the head or anything. So as long as I didn’t eat or drink anything she offered, I should be safe.
Just before stepping out the door, I decided to walk instead of driving. If I walked, I could take my knobby wooden walking stick and it wouldn’t seem odd. This way I had at least one line of defense.
Misty Drive was a looped road. On my side, the beachside houses lined up along the rocky beach made up by a small spit jutting down from Desperation Cliff. At the point of the spit sat the lighthouse. There the road curved back on itself, heading up the other side. These houses, while still boasting a waterfront view, were on the cove side. Their beaches held sandier shores and calmer waters. Instead of facing out on the rough and wild sea as I did, they looked in on the town, the marina, and the coastal cliffs behind the town.
My sandals crunched on the hot pavement as I passed Daphne’s house and approached the lighthouse. It was a beautiful building, painted stark white with red trim. It fit all the quintessential lighthouse pictures I held in my mind. A small, vibrantly green park surrounded the building and made for a great picnic area. A parking lot encouraged visitors from town, but the chief patrons were the Misty Drive locals, walking down to enjoy the views.
As the road curved, it took me away from the lighthouse, and a new line of houses came into view. The middle of the Misty Drive loop was full of craggy rocks and coastal pines. So we couldn’t see this side of the road from our houses. The homes on this side of the loop were just as picturesque, though. They kept with the Victorian theme, some even dwarfing Carl’s large home.
A few houses down from the lighthouse, however, was a home that almost couldn’t be called that. It was almost no bigger than my dearly departed shed. Okay, that was going too far, but the small one-story house had to be just about a thousand square feet, if not less. Though it kept with the rustic charm of the town, it wasn’t in the Victorian style, meaning it must’ve been built more recently.
See? Asher probably wouldn’t have been able to come inside anyway, I justified, clutching tighter to my walking stick.
The way Murray’s home had been tucked in between two larger houses made the place seem like an afterthought. And, while the house was well maintained, deep holes pocked the otherwise pristine yard. Any semblance of a garden that had been there was long gone. An old truck sat in the gravel driveway, leaving room for another car. Tabby might not even be in, I realized in frustration.
I pulled in a deep, fortifying breath. I followed a stone pathway to the front door, feeling a little too much like Gretel following bread crumbs to her demise.
The front door had been painted red like the trim, and I approached it, hoping it wasn’t a warning sign. I was about to knock, when I heard a voice inside.
“You have no idea what it’s like without you. I miss you so much, sweetheart.” The voice was definitely the smooth, velvety tambour of Tabitha’s I’d heard that morning in Jolene’s tea shop.
I wondered if she was on the phone. But she’d called the person sweetheart, just like she’d referred to Murray that morning when she rubbed their relationship in Jolene’s face.
Was it possible Tabitha could see Murray’s spirit? Asher said most people who were able to see ghosts only saw those of their loved ones.
I tucked the bag of tea under one arm and leaned closer, listening in. The walking stick supported me as I put both hands on the top and transferred more of my weight onto it.
“I’ve been looking everywhere, but I haven’t found it yet,” Tabitha’s voice rang out from inside.
Did Murray have her searching for something for him? I reassessed my suspicions of her as his killer. Why would she be helping his ghost if she’d been the one to kill him?
Shaking my head, I thought about how crazy that sounded. The woman was probably just on the phone. I needed to stop projecting my ghost-seeing abilities on others. Plus, if it was a ghost, shouldn’t I be able to hear them too?
Suddenly the front door swung open. I’d been leaning forward so much that I had to wind my arms in the air to stop from falling inside. My walking stick clattered against the house’s siding with the motion and my gift of tea fell at my feet.
“Oh!” Tabitha jumped, seeing me close to toppling onto her.
“Hi.” I cringed as I finally regained my balance and leaned back on my heels.
“Can I help you?” Tabitha asked, narrowing her eyes.
I squatted to pick up the bag of tea, dusting it off and holding it out to her. “Yes, I—well, actually, I’m here to see if I can help you.” I gestured behind me at the rocky hill that separated this house from mine. “I live on the other side of Misty Drive and I know you just lost Murray. I wanted to come by and offer to help in any way I can.”
Tabby’s face morphed from confusion into calm. She took the bag of tea from me, looking over the label. “That’s so sweet. Thank you.”
While she could be putting on an act for me, I got the impression she believed me. I’d known people like Tabby before, though. People who are beautiful, dynamic, and gregarious. They’re used to getting what they want, so they don’t doubt people’s motives for helping them as much as the rest of us might.
“Would you like to come in?” She checked behind me before stepping aside and ushering me inside.
I gripped my walking stick. “Sure. Sorry, I heard you talking on the phone and I didn’t want to interrupt. That’s why I hadn’t knocked yet,” I said, hearing how stupid my explanation sounded even to me.
Tabby paused, as if trying to remember, as if she’d forgotten whether or not she’d just been on the phone.
After too long of a silence, she said, “The phone. Right.”
Interest pricked at the hairs on my arm. Had my crazy notion about her seeing Murray’s ghost been right? I scanned the space. If he was here, I should be able to see him.
The house was small, just as it looked from the exterior, but cozy. It held the sweet and leathery scent of pipe tobacco. An overstuffed couch and a leather lounge chair sat next to a fireplace and looked out at the water. A compact galley kitchen led into what appeared to be the only bedroom, and behind me there was a bathroom and what I could only assume to be a closet.
No ghosts at all.
Tabitha walking into the kitchen and placed the bag of tea on the counter. After studying the tea a little longer, she turned her attention to me.
“So you run Tea by the Sea,” she said with a smile.
I nodded, realizing all too late that maybe it wasn’t the best idea to bring the tea. Now a possible murderer knew where I lived. But this was a small town, and I guess she could’ve found out in two seconds anyway.
“Did I hear there was fire there yesterday?” She stepped forward, concern coating her brown eyes.
I gulped at the reminder. “Yeah, the police think it was arson.”
Her m
outh dropped open. “Seriously? I hadn’t heard that. Not super surprising that I missed it. I’ve been dealing with my own problems.” Her face tightened, then she looked up at me. “But I’m so sorry. That’s awful.”
I got a fleeting idea to bring up Geoff, to see if she knew anything that might shed more light on him as a suspect. But the thought only lasted for a moment before I swallowed the words back in my throat. He’d killed her last husband. I guessed that wasn’t a pleasant conversation topic.
“So what do you do, Tabitha?” I asked as she gestured for me to sit at the small kitchen table.
Her eyes flicked out the window. “Travel mostly. Until I settled down with my Murraybear.” Her cheeks colored prettily as she used the nickname.
“That sounds great.” Travel really wasn’t my thing. I liked my comfortable routines too much, but I knew it was the right response to give in the circumstance. “I’ve never been anywhere. Where have you traveled?”
She chuckled. “Where haven’t I?” The rhetorical question seemed to somber her up, though, because she added, “Mostly down south but a little in Asia.”
I glanced at a photo book sitting on the coffee table. Decorated with tropical flowers, it didn’t seem like something Murray would buy. “May I?” I asked.
She picked one up and handed it over. “Those are just some of my pictures. I love documenting my travels. I even have a travel blog that makes me a little money.”
I smiled. The pictures were all of scenery. They were beautiful but not overly helpful. Though I wasn’t really sure what I was searching for.
“So what made you come back here?” I asked, keeping my eyes on the pictures in the hope that not looking her in the eye would be less threatening.
I glanced up. Tabitha’s face tightened.
“Honestly?” she asked with a little exhaled laugh.
I raised my eyebrows in a, tell me, please kinda way.
“I ran out of money,” she said, her shoulders dropping a few millimeters.
All the questions in my mind were too rude to say out loud. So you came back here to get Murray’s money? So you married him and then got rid of him? I kept quiet instead and just listened.