A Mew to a Kill

by Leighann Dobbs

  I could see the wheels turning in Gus’s head as she made a mental note to ask Sadie.

  “So, you and Sadie saw Paisley with someone in her shop?”

  Brenda nodded.

  Gus flapped her arms in exasperation. “Well, who was it?”

  “Maisie Beardsley, and she and Paisley were arguing something fierce.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  I was finally alone in the shop and still reeling from Brenda’s admission of seeing Maisie at Paisley’s the night she died. I had to admit, things were looking pretty bad for the senior artist.

  But, I still refused to believe she was the killer. For one thing, she didn’t have a strong enough motive. Sure, she needed money according to Josiah, but even if she thought Paisley might ruin her chances of winning the art show because of her relationship with George, that was still a weak reason to commit murder.

  But that wasn’t the biggest reason I didn’t believe she’d done it. Paisley was killed by a blow to the head and I was pretty sure Paisley could take Maisie in a fight. So, the only way Maisie could have hit her was if she took her by surprise and Brenda had seen them arguing, so it’s not like Maisie snuck up on her.

  All the more reason to get over to the photography shop to see what I could see.

  I looked out the window, glancing up and down the street. Things were quiet. It was a perfect time to close up shop and sneak out.

  “Meow!” Pandora’s green eyes shifted between looking at me and at Paisley’s shop as if she knew what I was contemplating.

  “I’ll only be a second. You keep an eye out, okay?”

  “Meoay.”

  Did she just nod? Maybe my head injury was worse than I had thought.

  I slipped out the front door, locking it behind me, and scurried across Main Street to the flowerpot where Paisley had said she’d hidden her key. Glancing around to make sure no one saw what I was doing, I tilted the pot up on its side. I snatched the key out from underneath it and hurried over to Paisley’s front door.

  The door squeaked when I pushed it open, as if it had resigned itself to being closed and was protesting. Inside, it was strangely quiet. The acrid smell of burned wood and paper hung in the air.

  I stood uncertainly in the front of the store, which looked much as it had before the fire. The closer to the back I looked, the more fire damage I could see.

  I took a few steps, looking from side to side for the cat. In one of the side aisles, I spotted a chalk outline on the floor and my stomach twisted. That’s where Paisley had fallen. I noticed that the outline was not visible from the center aisle, which explained why George hadn’t seen her. He must have just doused the back room and been in a hurry to get out of there when he set the fire.

  I walked toward the back, wincing at the sound of broken glass crunching under my shoes. If the cat was in here, she’d probably be in the back area hiding under something, especially if she was close to having kittens or had already given birth.

  The back section of the store was water-damaged. All the photographs Paisley had displayed on the wall were wrinkled and shriveled in their black frames.

  Debris lay strewn about on the floor. Paper, frames, poster board, camera bags. I noticed one of the pictures of the Founder’s Day parade— the same one in the portfolio that Paisley had given me. It had slid off the wall and lay on the floor, its glass smashed in a spider web configuration.

  I stopped walking and stood still, my ears straining for any sound.

  “Here, Kitty,” I said softly so as not to spook the cat. If she was in here, my presence probably made her nervous and she’d be on high alert to protect the kittens.

  I didn’t get a reply. Maybe she wasn’t in here. I made a mental note to check out back where I’d seen the box before. I figured since I was in here now, though, I might as well look to see if I could find any clues that would lead to Paisley’s killer.

  The further toward the back of the store I got, the more debris there was. I moved a half-burned table to see if the cat was hiding underneath. I didn’t find the cat, but I did get black smudged all over my fingers, which I wiped off on my jeans.

  It looked like a piece of wood over the back door had been pried off and put back on. I was pretty sure the cat didn’t do that, so that was probably how the thief in the black truck had gotten in last night. The question was what were they looking for and did they find it?

  I searched around for another hour, but I didn’t see any sign of a cat or any clues as to who had killed Paisley.

  Disappointment weighing on my shoulders, I let myself out the front door and locked up.

  As I turned the key in the lock, I glanced down the street. It was virtually empty at this time in the afternoon, but a few stores down at the Mystic Café, I saw a familiar figure. Kenny Brown. I watched as he reached up to wipe something from his face. It almost looked like he was wiping a tear away and I felt a momentary pang of sympathy.

  Then his fists clenched and he pounded his thigh. I thought I heard him say, “I knew it.”

  He whirled around and our eyes locked. His eyes sparked with anger and he started toward me. I stood frozen in place, not knowing what to do as my heart thudded against my rib cage.

  “What were you doing in there?” He gestured toward the door.

  I couldn’t very well tell him his sister had asked me to go in.

  I shrugged, trying to pretend like I was just a good neighbor. “Someone broke in here the other night and I was just checking to make sure everything was okay.”

  His eyes narrowed. He glanced into the store. “I would think someone who just almost got run over here would steer clear.”

  Alarm bells went off in my head. How did he know I’d been hit by the truck?”

  I shifted my weight from one foot to the other. Suddenly, I wanted to get as far away from him as possible. His gaze fell on the key in my hand.

  I held out my palm, the key lying flat on it. “I guess everything in the shop is yours now.”

  “And that’s another reason for you to stay across the street in your own shop.”

  He plucked the key out of my hand and leaned down, looming over me. “I don't know what you're up to, but if I were you, I'd be very careful … or you might get what's coming to you.”

  “Right.” I backed away from him in the direction of my shop. “Well, have a nice day.”

  I turned and scooted across the street as fast as I could, his words echoing in my ears. I wondered if they were meant to be a warning or a threat.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  I ran into my shop and shut the door.

  “Mewp.” Pandora blinked up at me with big eyes.

  “Yeah, that was a close one.” I peered out at Kenny. He tossed the key in his hand, then took one last look into the photography shop before shaking his head and continuing down the street.

  I wonder what he’d been looking at in the café that had gotten him so upset.

  Just thinking about the café made me realize I needed a snack. I locked up the bookstore again and hurried down to the Mystic Café. Pausing at the window where I’d seen Kenny, I looked inside.

  What had he seen that had made him so angry? I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary, just some posters for lunchtime specials, a notice from the Rotary club and the inside of the café, which consisted of rows of booths, and Bud in the kitchen behind the counter. Myrna stood behind the cash register.

  I skirted the café tables, went inside and ordered a tuna with extra pickles, then headed back to the bookstore, wondering what my next move to find the killer would be.

  Halfway down the street, I saw Pepper rushing toward me.

  “Willa! Are you sure you should be out?” She enveloped me in a lavender-scented hug.

  “Yes, I’m fine.”

  She held me at arm’s length, her brows creased in a worried ‘V’. “Really? You know you should take it easy. Sometimes those injuries take a while for the full effect to come out.” />
  I rubbed my shoulder. It was starting to ache more now, as if proving her point.

  “I think I’ll be fine with just a few Tylenol.” I didn’t have time to just lie around pampering myself. I needed to find the killer.

  I unlocked the bookstore and we went inside. While I ate the sandwich, I brought Pepper up to speed on everything, including how Brenda had seen Maisie at Paisley's store.

  “So, Maisie was in Paisley’s store right around the time of the murder?” Pepper asked.

  “I guess so.” Brenda said Sadie saw her, too. “I ripped off a corner of the waxed paper the sandwich had come in and put a smidgen of tuna on it, then placed it on the floor for Pandora.

  She eyed it suspiciously, then trotted over, circling around the paper a couple of times before sniffing it thoroughly, then hunching down and lapping at it daintily. She could take twenty minutes to eat one teaspoon worth of tuna.

  “But Maisie couldn’t possibly be the killer,” Pepper said. “Would she have the strength to hit someone hard enough to kill them?”

  “I don’t know. How hard do you have to hit someone kill him, anyway?”

  “That is a good question. I have no idea. But it seems like it would have to be pretty hard.”

  “Right. Anyway, I don’t think it could be her either because her motive isn’t strong enough. Unless there is something we don’t know.” I sighed. “But my only other suspect is Kenny and I don’t have a good motive for him, either.”

  “Merowww!” Pandora looked up at me. She had a little dab of tuna on her nose. “You’re not getting any more. They put mayonnaise in it, and that isn’t good for you. When we get home, I’ll give you some tuna out of the can.”

  “Mleeep!” Pandora spun around with glee, then came over and bumped her head against my hand, forcing me to pet her.

  “So, now what will you do?” Pepper asked.

  “I’m not sure. But whoever ran me down might not be done trying to kill me, so I need to figure something out.”

  “Gus and Striker must be looking for the person who ran you down, right? Did they say that they have any clues?”

  I crumpled up the wax paper and threw it in the trash. “No. Gus came by earlier and she just gave me the usual warning about leaving it to the police.”

  “She does have a point. The killer is obviously dangerous.” Pepper chewed her bottom lip. “Who do we know that has a black truck?”

  “Meow!” Pandora jumped up on the arm of the couch.

  I waved my hand at her. “Get down. I don’t need you clawing up this couch. I can't afford to buy a new one with all the time I’ve been taking off.”

  I turned to Pepper. “That’s just it. I don’t think I know anyone with a black truck. And I asked the regulars and they didn’t come up with anyone, either. But I wonder if Kenny might have access to one. Paisley said that he borrowed his friend’s cars. Maybe he borrowed a black truck that night.”

  “I could try to find out,” Pepper offered. “My friend Barney over at the halfway house might know if one of the people there has one.”

  “That would be great,” I said as the bell over the door chimed, announcing a customer. “Because I get a feeling I’d better find out who the killer is before something else happens.”

  “You don’t have to worry about that anymore.” We turned around to see Jimmy standing there in his deputy uniform, looking eagerly at our confused faces. “We were able to recover the data from the camera, and there was a person in Paisley’s last picture. We made an arrest.”

  My brows shot up. “You did? Who was it?”

  “Maisie Beardsley.”

  ***

  I stared at Jimmy incredulously. “What? No way. You guys really think she is the killer?”

  “How would she have the strength to kill Paisley?” Pepper demanded.

  Jimmy shrugged. “People have been known to come up with extra strength when they needed it.”

  “I don’t get it. What evidence do you have? Is it just because Brenda told Gus that she saw her in there with Paisley the night Paisley was killed?”

  “It’s not just that. Maisie needed money and she probably saw Paisley as a threat to her winning the art contest prize. Plus she was passionate about art and didn’t think Paisley’s paintings qualified. The last picture that Paisley took was of Maisie. You found a ‘B’ charm behind Paisley’s shop and it’s pretty similar to the ‘B’ pin that Maisie wears. If it turns out to be hers, that physical evidence places her at the scene, not to mention that Brenda and Sophie both saw her there.” Jimmy had ticked off each of the items on his fingers as he mentioned them. He held up is hand, all fingers splayed out. “That’s five reasons.”

  “Wait a minute,” Pepper said. “You guys have a picture of Maisie killing Paisley?”

  “No. The picture didn’t show her killing Paisley. It was a picture of Maisie getting into her car. From the angle at which it was taken, it looked like Paisley had taken it while she was lying on the floor. It must have been her last act, struggling to get off a shot of her killer, but by that time, Maisie had already left the shop.”

  A pang of guilt stabbed my heart. I was the one that had given Gus and Striker the charm and it was my fault Gus had been here to hear Brenda talk about seeing Maisie that night.

  But something didn’t seem right. “Something’s not right. It takes Maisie a long time to get into her car, so Paisley must’ve been lying there for a while, and if she had the wherewithal to take a picture, why couldn’t she have called 911?”

  Jimmy twisted his mouth. “I’m not sure why she didn’t call 911. Maybe she couldn’t gather the strength to get her phone and the camera was right there next to her.”

  “Why would a camera be on the floor?” Pepper asked.

  “And what about the person who ran me down? Maisie doesn’t have a black truck. You think she borrowed someone’s truck and went back to Paisley’s, pried off the board in the back and went in to look for something, then ran me down?”

  “We think she might’ve gone back looking for the charm. You said you found it in the alleyway and if she lost it, she would’ve realized that.” Jimmy’s brows tugged together. “Though she did deny that the charm was hers. She said she never wore bracelets because they would interfere with her painting.”

  I tried to remember if I’d ever seen Maisie wearing a bracelet and I couldn’t. I was more sure than ever that Maisie didn’t do it. What were Gus and Striker thinking?

  “Did Maisie confess? What did she say when you brought her in?” I asked.

  “Of course she’s saying she didn’t do it. I believe the exact word she used to describe our accusations was ‘Poppycock’. But most murderers claim they didn’t do it,” Jimmy pointed out.

  “Witnesses saw her at Paisley's. I know they didn’t even like each other, so what did Maisie have to say about that? Why did she go to Paisley's?” I asked.

  “She claims she was there because she got some note from Paisley asking her to meet her there. She said Paisley denied giving it to her.”

  Wait. Paisley had said she’d gotten a note, too. But I couldn’t tell Jimmy that.

  “Did she show you the note?” I asked.

  “She claimed she threw it out.” Jimmy turned back toward the door. “Well, anyway, I just wanted to stop by and let you know we found the killer. Striker asked me to make sure you knew. He’s busy booking her right now or he’d have come himself. He said to tell you that you could stop investigating. He didn’t seem very happy that you would be doing that, but of course that’s no surprise to me.” Jimmy’s face looked thoughtful as he put his hand on the knob. “You know, after talking to you guys, I realize the evidence does seem kind of flimsy. But I’m sure Gus and Striker know what they’re doing, right?”

  “I guess so.”

  “Right. See you guys later.” He opened the door and disappeared into the street.

  Pepper turned to me with an excited look on her face. “The note. You said Paisley
told you she got one too, right?”

  “That’s right. And if she did, that means that someone was setting Maisie up and the real killer is still out there.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  After Pepper left, I hung around the shop waiting for Paisley’s ghost to appear. I needed to ask her where she’d put that note. I figured if I could find it, I could give it to the police and maybe they could match the handwriting. If it wasn’t from Maisie, then she would be cleared and they would be able to get a lead on the real killer.

  I went so far as to hang around in the fashion section, calling out for Paisley, Robert and Franklin, but none of them appeared. Ghosts rarely do when you actually want them to.

  Shortly before closing time, the shop phone rang. I debated not answering it, but I often had customers call from other states looking for rare volumes of books and I couldn’t afford to lose a sale.

  “Last Chance Books,” I trilled into the mouthpiece.

  “Hi, Willa. This is Brenda Parrish.”

  “Hi, Brenda, what can I do for you?” Why was she calling? She’d just barely left and, I had to admit, I was still a little miffed that she’d spilled the beans on Maisie. I was sure she thought she was doing the right thing … but still.

  “I’ve spoken to the other judges, and none of us can find Paisley’s computer. Opal even checked with the police and at her house. Then we realized that you still might have the portfolio we looked at in the judges’ meeting. Do you have it?”

  I glanced back behind the counter. The blue portfolio was sitting there. Better to give it to one of the judges than to have to hand it over to Kenny. “Yes, I have it.”

  “Good! I think we can use it to put together a little memorial in the art show for Paisley. Do you think you could bring it by tonight? I don’t have much time to get this together, so I need it right away.”