“Knowing who the house was left to is a high priority,” said Charlie, looking at her notes. “But my list is so long I don’t know how I can manage all of it.”
“Have you talked to Hansen at all?” I asked her.
“What would I do that for?” Charlie asked.
“He may have some information you haven’t gotten about the case,” I said.
To that Charlie didn’t deign to reply.
The Daily Brew had quieted down, so when the bell tinkled and someone came in, I turned to who it was, and it turned out to be Tom. He glanced at us and hurried up to the counter without a second look, but his cheeks went a splotchy red.
“Oh, no he doesn’t,” said Charlie.
She quickly scooted out of her seat, hustled over to the counter, and waited for Tom’s order to arrive. When it did she picked it up with a big smile and led him back to our table.
“Have a seat,” she offered. He sat reluctantly and looked longingly at his onion bagel.
“How are you?” I asked him.
“I can’t tell you anything,” he said.
“Tell us anything about what?” Charlie asked.
“About the library,” he said.
“I know all kinds of things about the library,” said Charlie. “It has books.”
“It’s your first real case, right?” I asked.
“That’s right,” said Tom. “It’s been a real doozy.”
“Do you know cause of death yet?” Charlie asked.
Tom sighed. “It isn’t public yet.”
“But it will be,” said Charlie.
“Yeah, but not until Detective Cutter gives the word,” said Tom.
“I promise I won’t share the information with anyone,” said Charlie.
“What good is it if you can’t put it in print?” Tom asked.
Charlie gave him a pitying look, as if he really didn’t understand.
“We think she was killed over a book. Maybe. It’s a theory,” said Tom. “But do not put that in the paper until Detective Cutter announces it.”
“On my honor,” said Charlie.
“I have to get back to work,” said Tom.
“Wait,” said Charlie. “Why did you tell me this?”
As Tom hurried away, freed from the beast that was Charlie on a case, Paws said, “Poor little lamb. It hardly seems fair. It’s like a mouse with a cat after it.”
“Like you’ve ever worried about fair,” I said.
“Do you think she’ll still be there trying to sniff around?” Charlie asked as we drove. We had taken my car; we could go back and pick hers up later.
“I don’t know,” I said. “But probably, because her determination to stay near the alcohol seems strong.”
“Her family seems nice,” said Charlie.
“Yes, so nice that it makes me feel like we’re missing something,” I said.
“What would we be missing?” Charlie asked.
“Well, we haven’t even considered the possibility that it was someone from around here who killed her,” I said.
“A local?” Charlie said.
“I don’t know, but for all their speculations, no one in the family has been able to point to any townspeople specifically. They just say bad things about Mintwood in general,” I said.
“Who do you think might know anyone in town might who didn’t get along with Isabel?” Charlie asked.
“I don’t know,” I said. “The only Mintwood resident I know who seems to have known her was Mrs. Snicks. Bu that doesn’t tell us much, because as the librarian, she pretty much knows everybody.”
Charlie took my observation and ran with it. “Maybe it was Mrs. Snicks herself. She murdered Isabel for a late fee and figured Mr. Snicks could bury the body because he works at the cemetery.”
“Okay, you are no longer allowed to have coffee in the afternoon,” I informed her.
“Tomorrow let’s go to the library and see if Mrs. Snicks can tell us anything,” said Charlie.
“Okay,” I said. “Meanwhile, here we are.”
We had arrived at the bar only to find Deacon’s truck parked out front, prompting us to exchange glances. With Deacon there we wouldn’t be able to talk to Isabel, so hopefully Greer would manage to get rid of him. Nothing personal, but we had a case to solve.
Deacon was sitting on a barstool right next to where Greer was working behind the bar, organizing bottles.
“Hey, Charlie,” he said, spinning around on his seat. “Hey, Carrot.”
Greer made a strangled noise and Deacon grinned at her. She hated it when he called me Carrot, which was probably why he did it so often.
Isabel was sitting right next to him looking on in fascination. He didn’t know that, of course.
“Why is there a bottle of rum sitting open on the bar?” Deacon asked.
“Because I want it there,” said Greer.
“Story my life,” he said with a grin.
She laughed and rolled her eyes.
“What brings you two here?” he asked.
“Just wanted to stop and say hi,” I said.
“What are you up to?” Charlie asked.
“Thought I’d have lunch with my girl,” Deacon said. “But I was late because of a meeting this morning.”
“How are your apartments doing?” I asked.
“Pretty well,” he said. “I maintain them to very high standard, so it works out.”
“Like no smoking in the buildings?” Charlie asked.
“Yeah I know, no pyromaniacs,” said Deacon with a grin at Greer.
“I don’t mind pyromaniacs in my place,” I said.
“Thank you, I guess,” said Greer.
“I don’t know what all this is about. I haven’t even been able to get an update on the case,” said Isabel. She was resting her chin on her hand and gazing dreamily at Deacon. “Men like him were never around when I was young. If they were, they weren’t hanging around with nice girls like you,” she said to Greer.
“Thanks, I think,” said Greer, who seemed to be the special target of ambiguous compliments today.
“What was that?” Deacon asked.
“What?” Greer asked. She had forgotten that someone who couldn’t see ghosts was there.
“Never mind,” Deacon said. “I’d better get going anyway.”
He stood up with a smile, leaving his plate spotless. Deacon could put any amount of food away and not even be very full.
“See you all later. Enjoy your girl talk,” he said.
Once Deacon was out the door Greer said, “Okay, tell me everything!”
“Tell me everything,” said Isabel simultaneously.
“We’ll tell you both everything,” said Charlie. “That’s why we came!”
“Even better,” said Isabel.
“We’ve seen a lot of your family,” said Charlie.
“Aren’t they ghastly?” Isabel rolled her eyes.
“They’re something, no doubt about it,” said Charlie.
“I’m sure we got along better when we were all younger,” said Isabel. “You know, back when I traveled a lot and never had to spend any time with them.”
“From experience, I’m not sure that counts as getting along better,” said Greer.
“Do you have anyone you suspect?” Isabel asked.
We told her about the three people we had met at her house and the two cousins we had spoken to at the café.
She nodded. “They all visit frequently. Can’t stop them.”
“Do you remember who you left your house to?” I asked her.
“Or maybe where the will is?” Charlie asked.
Isabel frowned. “No, I can’t say that I do. Does it matter?”
“We don’t know yet. Just trying to get as much information as possible,” Charlie explained. “What about people around town? Who were you friends with here?”
“Well, I saw a lot of André, though I can’t say that was a good thing,” said Isabel.
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��Because he was overcharging you?” Charlie asked.
“I swear he was. He would wring the tourists dry so he could lower the prices for local people,” Isabel said.
“And you took issue with that?” Charlie asked.
“Of course,” Isabel. “And let me tell you, he didn’t like my arguing with him about it.”
The question was: Just how much didn’t he like it?
Chapter Seventeen
There was only one thing for it. That night we were going to have to spy on André to see if we could get any clues to Isabel’s murder.
“We haven’t had a stakeout in a while,” said Charlie eagerly.
We were sitting in my living room. I had come home from checking on Cesar to find my roommates dressed in their usual breaking and entering outfits. That is to say, they were wearing all black.
Charlie put on a black hat that didn’t really cover her bright blond hair, while Greer was a little more subtle. But they still would have stood out in downtown Mintwood in the daytime. Luckily, that wasn’t our time frame.
“We would fit right in if we were in Paris,” said Greer, adjusting her cap.
“We should find whoever owned the French wand and ask that witch to take you there,” I said.
“Ohhh, that’s a great idea!” said Charlie. She was sitting on the couch with some of her black binders on her lap. When she noticed my questioning look she said, “I’m just doing some background research.”
“On what?” I asked, going to sit next to her while Greer continued to get ready. She had assembled seven flashlights, some of them looking as if they had come out of the dark ages, and she was testing the strength of their beams.
“The Gray case,” she said. “There are a lot of moving parts, and no one can think of a convincing motive for Isabel’s murder, either for a townsperson or for a member of her family”
“One way or another I have a feeling it can be traced back to money,” said Greer, “if only we can find the right connection. Either it was André, or it was one of her kids who wanted to inherit everything.”
“Do you really think André is capable of murder?” I asked.
“I saw him wearing tights once. Wouldn’t have thought he was capable of that, either, but sometimes people surprise you.”
“Wasn’t that on Halloween, though?” I said.
“No need to be specific about it,” said Greer, rolling her eyes.
André was annoying in the extreme, we all agreed on that. He owned the art gallery downtown and thought very well of himself.
“I’ve never been sure if André thinks well of himself or badly of everybody else,” mused Charlie.
“I don’t think we have to choose,” said Greer.
“So he thinks badly of everyone but himself?” said Charlie.
“I feel like it’s both,” I said.
André gave off an air of sophistication that felt an awful lot like judgment. Why they always had to be so closely related I didn’t know, but André was Exhibit A.
“Hopefully he’ll still be at the gallery when we get there,” I said.
“He always stays late on Tuesdays,” said Charlie, “so maybe we’ll be in luck.”
“How do you know that?” I said.
“I asked Miss Violetta,” said Charlie.
“How does she know?” Greer said.
“Like any good shop owner, she keeps tabs on everyone,” said Charlie, sounding offended on Miss Violetta’s behalf.
“She spies,” Greer corrected.
“That seems a bit harsh,” said Charlie.
“She snoops?” said Greer.
“Getting closer,” Charlie agreed.
“They sound like me,” Paws coughed.
“No one sounds like you,” I told him.
“True,” he agreed.
“Are we ready?” Charlie asked.
“I think so,” I said. “Let’s gets going.”
Paws was hurrying alongside us on the way to the Beetle when a voice stopped us in our tracks.
“Where are you four off to?” asked Tank, hopping after us eagerly. The ghost bunny was wearing the green jewelry I had given him.
“You look ridiculous,” said Paws.
“Why? It matches my outfit,” said Tank.
“We’re working on a case,” I told the bunny.
“It looks like fun.” He sounded forlorn.
Knowing that Tank needed a bit of comfort, I went over to him.
“Where are you going?” Paws said through gritted teeth.
“Now see here, Tank,” I said. “I was actually going to come looking for you. I need your help.”
Tank’s ears perked up.
“My help? Anything! I can be very helpful! Just ask,” he said eagerly. “I can slay dragons! Climb mountains! Dance a waltz!”
I laughed at how excited he was. “No, nothing like that. I just need you to patrol the perimeter. We haven’t been able to have the séance that Mr. Bone suggested just yet, and I wondered if while we were out you could keep an eye on the place.”
“I’m your man! I mean rabbit!” he said, looking downright delighted.
“Great! Thanks. We’re counting on you,” I said.
“I’m definitely not,” Paws yelled.
“You can’t count anyway,” said the rabbit.
“Thanks again,” I said with a smile.
“Anytime! We’ll defend the perimeter like a million cats are invading! The worst of the worst!”
“Spare me,” moaned Paws.
“Let’s go,” said Greer.
Main Street Mintwood at this time of night was silent. The Twinkle Costume Shop, owned by our friend Liam, was closed for the day, though his multitude of twinkle lights still shone in the window and made me smile. This month Liam had done a spread of vintage Barbie dolls alongside life-sized models wearing the same clothes. To say it was gorgeous would have been an understatement.
“He should be doing high fashion in L.A. or New York,” said Charlie, seeing where I was looking.
“He really should,” I agreed.
The other Main Street shops were also closed. The Daily Brew, Mintwood Mucking, and the hardware store, run by the most notorious elderly ladies around, were all shuttered for the night, as was the gift shop, which I hadn’t gone into since a ghost had attacked me one night while I was trying to solve a case.
The Town Hall, which also housed the morgue and what passed for the jail and the police station, still had a light on inside. I hoped it was Tom and not Detective Cutter working late, but since I wasn’t sure, I made us give it a wide berth.
“There’s still a light on,” I said triumphantly, looking at André’s Gallery.
We walked up to the gallery’s display windows and gazed at an array of paintings of lakes. With the heavy tourist trade in the summer, lakes made a lot of sense.
“It’s an awful lot of blue,” said Charlie, looking at the window.
“I love the color blue,” I said.
“Do you think if someone sees us they’ll wonder why we’re all dressed in black?” Greer asked.
“Definitely,” I said.
“Do you think they’ll ask us why?” Greer said.
“Probably,” said Charlie, frowning at her friend.
“Then can we please stop standing in the middle of the street like a bunch of idiots?” said Greer.
“What if we are a bunch of idiots?” said Charlie.
Greer gave a heavy sigh. “Then we need to do a better job pretending otherwise,” she said.
“Right you are,” I agreed with a grin.
The three of us sank back into the shadows cast by the Main Street buildings. Paws did a tap dance in the street to make a point.
“No one thinks you’re funny,” I hissed.
“You don’t have a sense of humor then,” said Paws.
“Maybe I would if you were actually funny,” I fumed.
“Don’t try to argue with him,” said Charlie.
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p; “Why not?” I asked.
“Because you don’t really have a sense of humor,” Greer smirked.
“I see him,” Charlie hissed.
We immediately stopped talking and followed Charlie’s gaze. Sure enough, there was André stepping out of the gallery. As he turned around to lock up, he looked left and then right as if he suspected someone was watching him.
“That’s strange,” I said.
“Very,” whispered Charlie.
“Let’s go,” I said.
André strode around the back of the building and Paws ran after him. We had almost caught up when the cat came dashing back.
“He got in a car!” he yelled.
The three of us changed direction in a hurry and scrambled for the Beetle.
Unsurprisingly, Paws got there first. We had just piled into the little car when a black BMW came around the corner carrying André.
The Beetle coughed to life. The old girl had been running fine for a few months, and I prayed it would stay that way. I rarely drove her more than ten miles a day, so maybe that had something to do with it.
“Let’s go,” cried Greer, bouncing in her seat.
“If you’re slow he’ll get away,” Paws cried frantically.
“Not from me,” I said with determination. My fingers gripped the wheel more tightly as I followed at a far distance behind André. He was driving at a leisurely pace that made me think he had no idea he had a tail.
“He’s a terrible driver,” Paws said with shock.
“That BMW is wasted on him,” said Charlie.
“Sure is. Can you imagine what my brothers would do with one of those?” said Greer.
“Actually, I’m surprised they don’t have one of those,” said Charlie.
“My mother would kill them,” said Greer with amused certainty.
“I believe that,” said Charlie.
“Where are we, anyway? Still in Mintwood?” I asked after a while.
I had been following André without paying very close attention to the roads he was taking, and by now all I knew was that we were definitely heading for the outskirts of town. There was a lot of forest in Mintwood, and if you weren’t paying attention it could all look alike. But when I made myself actually look around and orient myself, I realized where we were.
We were heading toward Mintwood Mountain.
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