Purrfect Alibi: A Hazel Hart Cozy Mystery Three

by Louise Lynn

  So, Amber was doing this to get back in the school’s good graces? For a popular kid, Hazel supposed that was a good motive. But it still didn’t mean she hadn’t killed Brandon.

  “Is that all you wanted to tell me?”

  Amber rolled her eyes. “No. I just—okay. So, I know it looks bad, but I didn’t tell the police this earlier because I didn’t want to get in trouble. But I saw Brandon before he went missing. That night.” She swallowed heavily.

  Hazel nodded. “Was this after Jay Turner and Travis left?”

  Amber blinked. “Yeah. You know about that? They got in a fight, and then Travis and Jay stormed off and Brandon was upset, so I talked to him and stuff. I was still kind of mad at him, but I felt bad because he was crying,” she said and wrinkled her nose as if that was the most disgusting thing she could ever imagine.

  A boy.

  Crying.

  It was Hazel’s turn to roll her eyes. “You know, boys are allowed to cry. They’re humans. We all have the same range of emotions,” she explained as if Amber were a three-year-old and not a teenager.

  “I know. But he was always tough, so it was weird. It was late, and my friends were texting me and saying to go because we were having a sleepover at Shannon’s house, and I left. Last I saw, he was going back into the Manor to get his jacket”

  “It was still open?”

  Amber shrugged. “I guess. That’s the last I saw him, but then, I did see that black car drive back down the road. So, who knows? But I didn’t do it. Tell the cops that. And I am sorry he’s dead. I didn’t want him to die. Believe me. I—I feel bad that I didn’t stay.”

  Hazel sucked in a breath through her nose and the fluorescent light above them flickered.

  If Brandon was crying, maybe he really didn’t want Travis to break up with him. Poor kid. He died a little over an hour later, and Travis had no clue. Hazel’s heart clenched.

  As long as Amber was being so talkative, she might as well ask the obvious.

  “Did you come to my house last night?”

  Amber’s gaze dropped to her lap. She picked at the pink nail polish on her fingernail. “I don’t even know where you live. And I did not spray paint your place either. That’s so immature.”

  Hazel shook her head. She wasn’t sure if she believed Amber or not. Especially considering no one else said anything about Brandon going back inside the Manor. Or if the Manor was still even open. She thought everyone else had left at that point. Sheriff Cross said no one else had noticed Brandon after he went into the garden. So, the police figured his killer had confronted him there, close to the area he was killed.

  But maybe that wasn’t the case at all.

  “There are rumors that you used to punch Brandon. Did you?”

  Amber sneered. “Yeah, but only when he was stupid. You know how dumb boys can be.”

  “Dumb or not, that’s no excuse to hit someone,” Hazel said and leaned across the table. “Do you know what happened to Brandon’s phone? He had it that night, but it’s missing.”

  Amber sat up straight. “His phone is missing? Oh, that’s not good. I mean, there may be some incriminating photos on it of, like, him and Travis kissing. Maybe that mean guy took it.”

  “Mean guy? At the Rockwell Manor?”

  Amber shrugged. “Yeah, that mean guy was yelling at everyone all night when anyone did anything. Especially when we took selfies. Or when Brandon bumped into that ugly vase.”

  Hazel’s eyes widened. “He bumped into a vase? Did it break?”

  Amber pursed her lips. “I don’t think so, but Brandon laughed, and got, like, this perfume on him, and he wiped it on his pants and left a big stain. I think he was snapping photos of that when the mean guy got really mad and was threatening to kick us out, but the sheriff came over and told him to calm down, so that was that.”

  Was the mean guy Tyson Bridger or someone else?

  Hazel pulled out her phone and looked for the pictures of the Manor Violet had sent her from their visit the day before. She stopped on the picture of the Nara Era oil lamp. “Was this the vase?”

  Amber squinted at the screen. “Yeah. One of those ugly things.”

  “Did you recognize the scent of the perfume?”

  “It was flowery. He smelled like my mom after she gets out of the bubble bath. Can I go now?”

  Hazel gave her a smile and stood. “I’ll talk to the sheriff.”

  As she walked out of the room, Sheriff Cross greeted her, his brows drawn into a line. “I saw the whole thing from the observation room, but I don’t remember telling anybody not to yell at the kids that night.”

  Hazel nodded. It hadn’t really sounded like Sheriff Cross to her either. “So, you think she’s lying about it all?”

  Sheriff Cross rubbed his cheeks. It didn’t look as if he’d shaved that morning, and the lines around his eyes were tighter. He wasn’t getting enough sleep due to this case. “Not about everything. Do you have any idea who the mean guy could be?”

  Hazel nodded. “The guy who owns the Manor. Tyson Bridger. He is mean. And he’s the one who sent you the video with Jay attacking Brandon right before he died.”

  “In that case, he’s not our guy. He has a solid alibi. And that video of the fight is still our best piece of evidence. Along with the bottles of spray paint one of my deputies found behind the Taproom.”

  Hazel pursed her lips. “Were they in the dumpster or out in the open?”

  “Next to the dumpster. And it’s the same color used on your studio. I didn’t arrest Jay Turner yet, but it’s looking more and more like he did it.”

  From the sound in his voice, Hazel figured Sheriff Cross didn’t want Jay to be guilty either.

  “What is Tyson Bridger’s solid alibi?”

  “He gave us surveillance video of him leaving the Manor at eleven thirty.”

  Hazel frowned. And there was video of Jay fighting with Brandon a little over an hour and a half later. “So, Brandon couldn’t have just walked back inside the Manor, like Amber said, or it would’ve shown up on the surveillance.”

  Sheriff Cross nodded. “That’s right.”

  “What about surveillance of Jay and Travis leaving the first time?” she asked and thought about what Travis told her about their late-night drive around the lake.

  Sheriff Cross furrowed his brow. “We’d have to go through it again. I can’t remember that. But don’t worry about it. After last night, maybe you should take a break.”

  Hazel snorted. “You’re one to talk. You didn’t even get around to shaving this morning,”

  Sheriff Cross raised an eyebrow and that smirk of his tugged at the corner of his lips. “Oh? You notice those kinds of details about me. Whether I shave or not?”

  She felt her cheeks heat. “Not really. It’s just, you’re getting fuzzy. Shut up. I have to close the studio and take Anthony Ray to my parent’s house after I pick up a few things.” Which reminded her of something else. “Oh yeah, any luck finding a new place?”

  Sheriff Cross let out a groan. “I wish. I haven’t even had time to think about it.”

  She gave him an apologetic smile. “Keep looking and you’ll find something great. The Barkley place is probably on sale too. Actually, that reminds me, did you guys narrow down the place you think Brandon was killed? I remember a really steep staircase in the garden, and it was clean. Recently cleaned.”

  Sheriff Cross’s brow quirked. “You remember it from Saturday or some other, more recent, visit?”

  Hazel shrugged. “It looked like a good place to break someone’s neck without a lot of effort. That’s all I’m saying. And it’s near the center of the maze, where his body was found.”

  “I remember that. We didn’t find anything there, but the lack of evidence could mean whoever did it cleaned up after themselves.”

  That’s what Hazel was thinking too.

  As he was walking her out, Violet came bounding up. “Oh, just the people I was looking for. I heard about what happe
ned in your shop, and that’s awful. Did Jay do it?”

  Hazel’s stomach clenched, and Sheriff Cross frowned. “I said I’d have a deputy pick you up after school. Did you walk here?”

  Violet rolled her eyes. “It’s three blocks. Did you think a kidnapper was gonna pick me up?”

  Sheriff Cross looked ready to say something, and Hazel put a hand on his arm. “You got here safe. It’s fine. I’m heading over to my moms, so I’ll see you guys tomorrow,” Hazel said and moved away, but then Violet popped in front of her.

  “Because of the person who was stalking you last night? Can I come too? I mean, sleeping on the couch at Uncle Colton’s place is getting really uncomfortable. I promise I won’t be a nuisance.” Her eyes seem to grow even larger than they already were, giving her that puppy dog look that Ruth was so good at.

  “Don’t bother Ms. Hart, Violet,” Sheriff Cross said with a sigh.

  But Hazel smiled. “Actually, it’s not a bad idea. My parents have several spare rooms now that Esther and I don’t live with them anymore, and I’m sure they’d be happy to have you. If you want to pack a bag, I’ll pick you up at the apartment complex after I get food for Anthony Ray.”

  Violet nodded hastily and gave Hazel a quick hug. “Thanks. I can go, right Uncle Colton?”

  Sheriff Cross looked decidedly put upon, and he let out a heavy sigh and nodded. “I guess you both decided without me, so sure.”

  “You don’t mind, do you?” Hazel asked.

  She assumed he needed a break from Violet the same way Violet needed a break from him, especially staying in such close quarters.

  “Not at all. But keep an eye on her. She’s—”

  “Not a baby,” Violet cried then ran back outside, her backpack bumping against her back as she did.

  Hazel laughed. “She’s right. Fifteen is not a baby,” she said with a grin and left Sheriff Cross standing there in silence.

  Chapter 19

  As soon as they arrived, Violet was besotted with Hazel’s parents’ house. Her father gave Violet an extensive tour, explaining where the artifacts and pictures on the wall originated—something her father loved to do—while Hazel and Anthony Ray settled into Hazel’s old room.

  She didn’t remember the last time she’d stepped foot in there, not in the last few years, at least. Her mother had kept it tidy, although it had a few more exotic knickknacks than it had when she called it home.

  The quilt was the same old patchwork thing she remembered all too well, with too many colors and patterns to be appealing to the eye. Anthony Ray didn’t seem to mind. He made himself at home on her daybed, rubbed against her pillows and curled into a ball to go fast asleep.

  Hazel was going to get some work done before dinner, but that didn’t happen. Her mother came home with Esther and Ruth in tow, and that turned into a family dinner extravaganza.

  Their mother insisted that Esther had been doing enough baking that week and was wearing herself thin from all the quiches, cakes, and whatnot she’d been making for the Sizemore family. Not to mention most of the baked goods she was also making for the memorial service on Friday.

  For once, Esther actually didn’t complain about being told not to cook. She melted into the couch in the living room while Ruth went outside to do cartwheels.

  “So, they think Jay really did it?” Esther asked and leaned forward in the couch. Her ponytail was messier than usual, she had bags under her eyes similar to Sheriff Cross.

  Hazel shrugged. “Well, they found spray paint cans behind his bar. They thought the girlfriend may have been the one to come to my house last night, but she claims she didn’t. So, I don’t know. It looks bad for him,” Hazel admitted, though something about it bothered her, and not just because she knew Jay Turner. Or because of Celia’s former relationship with him.

  It was something Amber said about the oil lamp making Brandon’s suit smell like flowers. And what about the missing phone? It may have some evidence that could clear everything up—only the ‘missing’ part was a hindrance.

  It wasn’t that the pieces didn’t fit together properly. More like they fit together too well. Too easily. That hadn’t been the case before.

  As dinner rolled around, Hazel shoved those thoughts from her head and dug into the meal of salad and pizza, having missed lunch yet again. Violet chatted with Hazel’s mother and Ruth in turn.

  “I know how we can find out who did it,” Hazel’s mother declared and stabbed at her salad as if it had been the one to break Brandon Sizemore’s neck.

  “Oh no,” Esther said, and Hazel shook her head.

  “How?” Violet asked.

  Maureen Hart’s eyes danced behind her wireframed glasses. “My girls know, but they’re too scared to try it. The spirit board will clear it all up, but it would be best to be at the scene of the murder around the time it happened. That’s when the deceased are the most powerful.”

  “And where did you read that, dear?” Hazel’s father asked. He smiled at Hazel and gave her that look he got when her mother went off on one of her spirituality tangents.

  “It’s in the instructions, of course.”

  “Of course,” Esther deadpanned.

  “Who would want to talk to a dead teenager? They’re bad enough when they’re alive,” Ruth said and growled at her slice of pizza.

  “Ruth!” Esther cried.

  “Auntie Hazy said it first!” Ruth cried back.

  Hazel laughed and looked toward Violet. “Maybe I did. Present company excluded.”

  Then, with dinner over, Hazel got up and offered to do the dishes, since she normally didn’t cook, and Anthony Ray wound around her ankles and meowed for his next dinner even though he’d already eaten his first one.

  “Did the sheriff post anybody to watch your studio or your house tonight?” her father asked as he helped her load the dishwasher.

  “I don’t think he can spare anybody to watch two empty buildings,” Hazel said. “Plus, I grabbed the most expensive equipment and brought it over, but I couldn’t lug it all out of my studio or my house.”

  Her father nodded. He, more than anyone, understood the ridiculous number of cameras, lenses, and other equipment one acquired when they were a professional photographer.

  “You have it all well insured, don’t you?” Her father looked serious. There wasn’t even a hint of the twinkle that usually graced his eyes, which meant he was in business mode.

  “Of course. I have them both insured, but you think it’ll come to that?”

  “I hope not. But it’s always better to be safe than sorry.”

  Part of Hazel wished he hadn’t brought it up because a sick pit filled her stomach. If whoever was doing this to her did break into her house or office and ruined some of her expensive equipment, the insurance would pay for it, but the equipment would still be gone. And some of it was irreplaceable.

  She shook the thought from her head and finished with the dishes. She had work to do that night, and it might get her mind off the investigation for a few hours.

  However, it turned out to be just the opposite. As she settled in her bedroom upstairs to work in peace and quiet while her parents watched some nature documentary in the living room, Violet peeked her head around the corner.

  “Did you look up any of the articles about that girl who drowned fourteen years ago?” she asked.

  “No. Not yet. Did you find anything interesting?”

  Violet shrugged and slowly stepped in. They were both in their pajamas, Hazel’s were a pair of pink flannel one’s with dancing cats on them. Violet wore an oversized band T-shirt and a pair of plaid leggings.

  “I don’t know. But I just thought it was weird.” She told Hazel the name of the newspaper she looked up, and Hazel did so on her computer.

  The article in question was written after the drowning and was pretty standard for the Cedar Valley Post at the time. However, it looked like the reporter had talked to Tyson Bridger as well. He was quoted as saying: “It’s an un
fortunate accident that destroyed a priceless antique. Thankfully, the insurance will cover its destruction, but the world has lost its presence for good.”

  Hazel raised her eyebrows. “He’s talking about the boat and not the girl?”

  Violet nodded slowly. “Yeah. That’s what was weird. I mean, he seems like the type of person who likes stuff more than people, but to say that in an interview after a girl died is a little coldhearted.”

  Hazel couldn’t help but agree.

  Coldhearted and suspicious.

  While Tyson Bridger might be an awful person, did that make him a killer? He didn’t even have a motive to want Brandon dead.

  Anthony Ray jumped into Violet’s lap. She smiled and scratched his back. “Uncle Colton said that Jay Turner guy probably did it, and he told me about the video and stuff. But it seems too convenient, don’t you think?”

  Hazel let out a heavy sigh. “Yeah. That’s one word for it. What I don’t understand is why he left with Travis and then came back.”

  “He really left the Manor the first time?”

  Hazel nodded and clicked to another photo on her computer. She was going through the ones that Brandon Sizemore’s father had given her that day and adding some to the photomontage for the memorial service. While she was at it, she might as well take a closer look at the pictures the students sent as well. Especially the ones at the dance.

  She was keeping an eye out for that oil lamp that Brandon had spilled. “Yeah. Amber said both Travis and Jay left before her, but she also said she saw a car come back. Though, she didn’t say whose car it was.”

  Violet wrinkled her nose. “Or if she’s even telling the truth. I’ve only been going to that school for two days now, and I’ve already caught her in about fifty different lies. She’s pathological.”

  Hazel snorted. “Your uncle said the same thing. Not in the same way, but basically the same thing.”

  The only problem with looking through all those photos again, was that the students had sent her nearly a thousand, and it would take ages to comb through each of them carefully, unless she had help.